UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREEorTHE MELLSTOCK QUIREA RURAL PAINTING OF THE DUTCH SCHOOLby Thomas Hardy

PREFACE

This story of the Mellstock Quire and its old established west-gallerymusicians, with some supplementary descriptions of similar officials inTwo on a Tower, A Few Crusted Characters, and other places, is intendedto be a fairly true picture, at first hand, of the personages, ways, andcustoms which were common among such orchestral bodies in the villages offifty or sixty years ago. 

One is inclined to regret the displacement of these ecclesiasticalbandsmen by an isolated organist (often at first a barrel-organist) orharmonium player; and despite certain advantages in point of control andaccomplishment which were, no doubt, secured by installing the singleartist, the change has tended to stultify the professed aims of theclergy, its direct result being to curtail and extinguish the interest ofparishioners in church doings. Under the old plan, from half a dozen toten full-grown players, in addition to the numerous more or less grown-upsingers, were officially occupied with the Sunday routine, and concernedin trying their best to make it an artistic outcome of the combinedmusical taste of the congregation. With a musical executive limited, asit mostly is limited now, to the parson's wife or daughter and the school-children, or to the school-teacher and the children, an important unionof interests has disappeared. 

The zest of these bygone instrumentalists must have been keen and stayingto take them, as it did, on foot every Sunday after a toilsome week, through all weathers, to the church, which often lay at a distance fromtheir homes. They usually received so little in payment for theirperformances that their efforts were really a labour of love. In theparish I had in my mind when writing the present tale, the gratuitiesreceived yearly by the musicians at Christmas were somewhat as follows:From the manor-house ten shillings and a supper; from the vicar tenshillings; from the farmers five shillings each; from eachcottage-household one shilling; amounting altogether to not more than tenshillings a head annually--just enough, as an old executant told me, topay for their fiddle-strings, repairs, rosin, and music-paper (which theymostly ruled themselves). Their music in those days was all in their ownmanuscript, copied in the evenings after work, and their music-books werehome-bound. 

It was customary to inscribe a few jigs, reels, horn-pipes, and balladsin the same book, by beginning it at the other end, the insertions beingcontinued from front and back till sacred and secular met together in themiddle, often with bizarre effect, the words of some of the songsexhibiting that ancient and broad humour which our grandfathers, andpossibly grandmothers, took delight in, and is in these days unquotable. 

The aforesaid fiddle-strings, rosin, and music-paper were supplied by apedlar, who travelled exclusively in such wares from parish to parish, coming to each village about every six months. Tales are told of theconsternation once caused among the church fiddlers when, on the occasionof their producing a new Christmas anthem, he did not come to time, owingto being snowed up on the downs, and the straits they were in throughhaving to make shift with whipcord and twine for strings. He wasgenerally a musician himself, and sometimes a composer in a small way, bringing his own new tunes, and tempting each choir to adopt them for aconsideration. Some of these compositions which now lie before me, withtheir repetitions of lines, half-lines, and half-words, their fugues andtheir intermediate symphonies, are good singing still, though they wouldhardly be admitted into such hymn-books as are popular in the churches offashionable society at the present time. 

August 1896. 

Under the Greenwood Tree was first brought out in the summer of 1872 intwo volumes. The name of the story was originally intended to be, moreappropriately, The Mellstock Quire, and this has been appended as a sub-title since the early editions, it having been thought unadvisable todisplace for it the title by which the book first became known. 

In rereading the narrative after a long interval there occurs theinevitable reflection that the realities out of which it was spun werematerial for another kind of study of this little group of churchmusicians than is found in the chapters here penned so lightly, even sofarcically and flippantly at times. But circumstances would haverendered any aim at a deeper, more essential, more transcendent handlingunadvisable at the date of writing; and the exhibition of the MellstockQuire in the following pages must remain the only extant one, except forthe few glimpses of that perished band which I have given in verseelsewhere. 

T. H. April 1912. 

PART THE FIRST--WINTER

CHAPTER I: MELLSTOCK-LANE

To dwellers in a wood almost every species of tree has its voice as wellas its feature. At the passing of the breeze the fir-trees sob and moanno less distinctly than they rock; the holly whistles as it battles withitself; the ash hisses amid its quiverings; the beech rustles while itsflat boughs rise and fall. And winter, which modifies the note of suchtrees as shed their leaves, does not destroy its individuality. 

On a cold and starry Christmas-eve within living memory a man was passingup a lane towards Mellstock Cross in the darkness of a plantation thatwhispered thus distinctively to his intelligence. All the evidences ofhis nature were those afforded by the spirit of his footsteps, whichsucceeded each other lightly and quickly, and by the liveliness of hisvoice as he sang in a rural cadence:

 "With the rose and the lily And the daffodowndilly, The lads and the lasses a-sheep-shearing go. "

The lonely lane he was following connected one of the hamlets ofMellstock parish with Upper Mellstock and Lewgate, and to his eyes, casually glancing upward, the silver and black-stemmed birches with theircharacteristic tufts, the pale grey boughs of beech, the dark-crevicedelm, all appeared now as black and flat outlines upon the sky, whereinthe white stars twinkled so vehemently that their flickering seemed likethe flapping of wings. Within the woody pass, at a level anything lowerthan the horizon, all was dark as the grave. The copse-wood forming thesides of the bower interlaced its branches so densely, even at thisseason of the year, that the draught from the north-east flew along thechannel with scarcely an interruption from lateral breezes. 

After passing the plantation and reaching Mellstock Cross the whitesurface of the lane revealed itself between the dark hedgerows like aribbon jagged at the edges; the irregularity being caused by temporaryaccumulations of leaves extending from the ditch on either side. 

The song (many times interrupted by flitting thoughts which took theplace of several bars, and resumed at a point it would have reached hadits continuity been unbroken) now received a more palpable check, in theshape of "Ho-i-i-i-i-i!" from the crossing lane to Lower Mellstock, onthe right of the singer who had just emerged from the trees. 

"Ho-i-i-i-i-i!" he answered, stopping and looking round, though with noidea of seeing anything more than imagination pictured. 

"Is that thee, young Dick Dewy?" came from the darkness. 

"Ay, sure, Michael Mail. "

"Then why not stop for fellow-craters--going to thy own father's housetoo, as we be, and knowen us so well?"

Dick Dewy faced about and continued his tune in an under-whistle, implying that the business of his mouth could not be checked at amoment's notice by the placid emotion of friendship. 

Having come more into the open he could now be seen rising against thesky, his profile appearing on the light background like the portrait of agentleman in black cardboard. It assumed the form of a low-crowned hat, an ordinary-shaped nose, an ordinary chin, an ordinary neck, and ordinaryshoulders. What he consisted of further down was invisible from lack ofsky low enough to picture him on. 

Shuffling, halting, irregular footsteps of various kinds were now heardcoming up the hill, and presently there emerged from the shade severallyfive men of different ages and gaits, all of them working villagers ofthe parish of Mellstock. They, too, had lost their rotundity with thedaylight, and advanced against the sky in flat outlines, which suggestedsome processional design on Greek or Etruscan pottery. They representedthe chief portion of Mellstock parish choir. 

The first was a bowed and bent man, who carried a fiddle under his arm, and walked as if engaged in studying some subject connected with thesurface of the road. He was Michael Mail, the man who had hallooed toDick. 

The next was Mr. Robert Penny, boot- and shoemaker; a little man, who, though rather round-shouldered, walked as if that fact had not come tohis own knowledge, moving on with his back very hollow and his face fixedon the north-east quarter of the heavens before him, so that his lowerwaist-coat-buttons came first, and then the remainder of his figure. Hisfeatures were invisible; yet when he occasionally looked round, two faintmoons of light gleamed for an instant from the precincts of his eyes, denoting that he wore spectacles of a circular form. 

The third was Elias Spinks, who walked perpendicularly and dramatically. The fourth outline was Joseph Bowman's, who had now no distinctiveappearance beyond that of a human being. Finally came a weak lath-likeform, trotting and stumbling along with one shoulder forward and his headinclined to the left, his arms dangling nervelessly in the wind as ifthey were empty sleeves. This was Thomas Leaf. 

"Where be the boys?" said Dick to this somewhat indifferently-matchedassembly. 

The eldest of the group, Michael Mail, cleared his throat from a greatdepth. 

"We told them to keep back at home for a time, thinken they wouldn't bewanted yet awhile; and we could choose the tuens, and so on. "

"Father and grandfather William have expected ye a little sooner. I havejust been for a run round by Ewelease Stile and Hollow Hill to warm myfeet. "

"To be sure father did! To be sure 'a did expect us--to taste the littlebarrel beyond compare that he's going to tap. "

"'Od rabbit it all! Never heard a word of it!" said Mr. Penny, gleams ofdelight appearing upon his spectacle-glasses, Dick meanwhile singingparenthetically--

 "The lads and the lasses a-sheep-shearing go. "

"Neighbours, there's time enough to drink a sight of drink now aforebedtime?" said Mail. 

"True, true--time enough to get as drunk as lords!" replied Bowmancheerfully. 

This opinion being taken as convincing they all advanced between thevarying hedges and the trees dotting them here and there, kicking theirtoes occasionally among the crumpled leaves. Soon appeared glimmeringindications of the few cottages forming the small hamlet of UpperMellstock for which they were bound, whilst the faint sound of church-bells ringing a Christmas peal could be heard floating over upon thebreeze from the direction of Longpuddle and Weatherbury parishes on theother side of the hills. A little wicket admitted them to the garden, and they proceeded up the path to Dick's house. 

CHAPTER II: THE TRANTER'S

It was a long low cottage with a hipped roof of thatch, having dormerwindows breaking up into the eaves, a chimney standing in the middle ofthe ridge and another at each end. The window-shutters were not yetclosed, and the fire- and candle-light within radiated forth upon thethick bushes of box and laurestinus growing in clumps outside, and uponthe bare boughs of several codlin-trees hanging about in variousdistorted shapes, the result of early training as espaliers combined withcareless climbing into their boughs in later years. The walls of thedwelling were for the most part covered with creepers, though these wererather beaten back from the doorway--a feature which was worn andscratched by much passing in and out, giving it by day the appearance ofan old keyhole. Light streamed through the cracks and joints ofoutbuildings a little way from the cottage, a sight which nourished afancy that the purpose of the erection must be rather to veil brightattractions than to shelter unsightly necessaries. The noise of a beetleand wedges and the splintering of wood was periodically heard from thisdirection; and at some little distance further a steady regular munchingand the occasional scurr of a rope betokened a stable, and horses feedingwithin it. 

The choir stamped severally on the door-stone to shake from their bootsany fragment of earth or leaf adhering thereto, then entered the houseand looked around to survey the condition of things. Through the opendoorway of a small inner room on the right hand, of a character betweenpantry and cellar, was Dick Dewy's father Reuben, by vocation a"tranter, " or irregular carrier. He was a stout florid man about fortyyears of age, who surveyed people up and down when first making theiracquaintance, and generally smiled at the horizon or other distant objectduring conversations with friends, walking about with a steady sway, andturning out his toes very considerably. Being now occupied in bendingover a hogshead, that stood in the pantry ready horsed for the process ofbroaching, he did not take the trouble to turn or raise his eyes at theentry of his visitors, well knowing by their footsteps that they were theexpected old comrades. 

The main room, on the left, was decked with bunches of holly and otherevergreens, and from the middle of the beam bisecting the ceiling hungthe mistletoe, of a size out of all proportion to the room, and extendingso low that it became necessary for a full-grown person to walk round itin passing, or run the risk of entangling his hair. This apartmentcontained Mrs. Dewy the tranter's wife, and the four remaining children, Susan, Jim, Bessy, and Charley, graduating uniformly though at widestages from the age of sixteen to that of four years--the eldest of theseries being separated from Dick the firstborn by a nearly equalinterval. 

Some circumstance had apparently caused much grief to Charley justprevious to the entry of the choir, and he had absently taken down asmall looking-glass, holding it before his face to learn how the humancountenance appeared when engaged in crying, which survey led him topause at the various points in each wail that were more than ordinarilystriking, for a thorough appreciation of the general effect. Bessy wasleaning against a chair, and glancing under the plaits about the waist ofthe plaid frock she wore, to notice the original unfaded pattern of thematerial as there preserved, her face bearing an expression of regretthat the brightness had passed away from the visible portions. Mrs. Dewysat in a brown settle by the side of the glowing wood fire--so glowingthat with a heedful compression of the lips she would now and then riseand put her hand upon the hams and flitches of bacon lining the chimney, to reassure herself that they were not being broiled instead of smoked--amisfortune that had been known to happen now and then at Christmas-time. 

"Hullo, my sonnies, here you be, then!" said Reuben Dewy at length, standing up and blowing forth a vehement gust of breath. "How the blooddo puff up in anybody's head, to be sure, a-stooping like that! I wasjust going out to gate to hark for ye. " He then carefully began to winda strip of brown paper round a brass tap he held in his hand. "This inthe cask here is a drop o' the right sort" (tapping the cask); "'tis areal drop o' cordial from the best picked apples--Sansoms, Stubbards, Five-corners, and such-like--you d'mind the sort, Michael?" (Michaelnodded. ) "And there's a sprinkling of they that grow down by the orchard-rails--streaked ones--rail apples we d'call 'em, as 'tis by the railsthey grow, and not knowing the right name. The water-cider from 'em isas good as most people's best cider is. "

"Ay, and of the same make too, " said Bowman. "'It rained when we wrungit out, and the water got into it, ' folk will say. But 'tis on'y anexcuse. Watered cider is too common among us. "

"Yes, yes; too common it is!" said Spinks with an inward sigh, whilst hiseyes seemed to be looking at the case in an abstract form rather than atthe scene before him. "Such poor liquor do make a man's throat feel verymelancholy--and is a disgrace to the name of stimmilent. "

"Come in, come in, and draw up to the fire; never mind your shoes, " saidMrs. Dewy, seeing that all except Dick had paused to wipe them upon thedoor-mat. "I am glad that you've stepped up-along at last; and, Susan, you run down to Grammer Kaytes's and see if you can borrow some largercandles than these fourteens. Tommy Leaf, don't ye be afeard! Come andsit here in the settle. "

This was addressed to the young man before mentioned, consisting chieflyof a human skeleton and a smock-frock, who was very awkward in hismovements, apparently on account of having grown so very fast that beforehe had had time to get used to his height he was higher. 

"Hee--hee--ay!" replied Leaf, letting his mouth continue to smile forsome time after his mind had done smiling, so that his teeth remained inview as the most conspicuous members of his body. 

"Here, Mr. Penny, " resumed Mrs. Dewy, "you sit in this chair. And how'syour daughter, Mrs. Brownjohn?"

"Well, I suppose I must say pretty fair. " He adjusted his spectacles aquarter of an inch to the right. "But she'll be worse before she'sbetter, 'a b'lieve. "

"Indeed--poor soul! And how many will that make in all, four or five?"

"Five; they've buried three. Yes, five; and she not much more than amaid yet. She do know the multiplication table onmistakable well. However, 'twas to be, and none can gainsay it. "

Mrs. Dewy resigned Mr. Penny. "Wonder where your grandfather James is?"she inquired of one of the children. "He said he'd drop in to-night. "

"Out in fuel-house with grandfather William, " said Jimmy. 

"Now let's see what we can do, " was heard spoken about this time by thetranter in a private voice to the barrel, beside which he had againestablished himself, and was stooping to cut away the cork. 

"Reuben, don't make such a mess o' tapping that barrel as is mostly madein this house, " Mrs. Dewy cried from the fireplace. "I'd tap a hundredwithout wasting more than you do in one. Such a squizzling and squirtingjob as 'tis in your hands! There, he always was such a clumsy manindoors. "

"Ay, ay; I know you'd tap a hundred beautiful, Ann--I know you would; twohundred, perhaps. But I can't promise. This is a' old cask, and thewood's rotted away about the tap-hole. The husbird of a feller SamLawson--that ever I should call'n such, now he's dead and gone, poorheart!--took me in completely upon the feat of buying this cask. 'Reub, 'says he--'a always used to call me plain Reub, poor old heart!--'Reub, 'he said, says he, 'that there cask, Reub, is as good as new; yes, good asnew. 'Tis a wine-hogshead; the best port-wine in the commonwealth havebeen in that there cask; and you shall have en for ten shillens, Reub, '--'a said, says he--'he's worth twenty, ay, five-and-twenty, ifhe's worth one; and an iron hoop or two put round en among the wood oneswill make en worth thirty shillens of any man's money, if--'"

"I think I should have used the eyes that Providence gave me to use aforeI paid any ten shillens for a jimcrack wine-barrel; a saint is sinnerenough not to be cheated. But 'tis like all your family was, so easy tobe deceived. "

"That's as true as gospel of this member, " said Reuben. 

Mrs. Dewy began a smile at the answer, then altering her lips andrefolding them so that it was not a smile, commenced smoothing littleBessy's hair; the tranter having meanwhile suddenly become oblivious toconversation, occupying himself in a deliberate cutting and arrangementof some more brown paper for the broaching operation. 

"Ah, who can believe sellers!" said old Michael Mail in acarefully-cautious voice, by way of tiding-over this critical point ofaffairs. 

"No one at all, " said Joseph Bowman, in the tone of a man fully agreeingwith everybody. 

"Ay, " said Mail, in the tone of a man who did not agree with everybody asa rule, though he did now; "I knowed a' auctioneering feller once--a veryfriendly feller 'a was too. And so one hot day as I was walking down thefront street o' Casterbridge, jist below the King's Arms, I passed a'open winder and see him inside, stuck upon his perch, a-selling off. Ijist nodded to en in a friendly way as I passed, and went my way, andthought no more about it. Well, next day, as I was oilen my boots byfuel-house door, if a letter didn't come wi' a bill charging me with afeather-bed, bolster, and pillers, that I had bid for at Mr. Taylor'ssale. The slim-faced martel had knocked 'em down to me because I noddedto en in my friendly way; and I had to pay for 'em too. Now, I hold thatthat was coming it very close, Reuben?"

"'Twas close, there's no denying, " said the general voice. 

"Too close, 'twas, " said Reuben, in the rear of the rest. "And as to SamLawson--poor heart! now he's dead and gone too!--I'll warrant, that if sobe I've spent one hour in making hoops for that barrel, I've spent fifty, first and last. That's one of my hoops"--touching it with hiselbow--"that's one of mine, and that, and that, and all these. "

"Ah, Sam was a man, " said Mr. Penny, contemplatively. 

"Sam was!" said Bowman. 

"Especially for a drap o' drink, " said the tranter. 

"Good, but not religious-good, " suggested Mr. Penny. 

The tranter nodded. Having at last made the tap and hole quite ready, "Now then, Suze, bring a mug, " he said. "Here's luck to us, my sonnies!"

The tap went in, and the cider immediately squirted out in a horizontalshower over Reuben's hands, knees, and leggings, and into the eyes andneck of Charley, who, having temporarily put off his grief under pressureof more interesting proceedings, was squatting down and blinking near hisfather. 

"There 'tis again!" said Mrs. Dewy. 

"Devil take the hole, the cask, and Sam Lawson too, that good cidershould be wasted like this!" exclaimed the tranter. "Your thumb! Lendme your thumb, Michael! Ram it in here, Michael! I must get a biggertap, my sonnies. "

"Idd it cold inthide te hole?" inquired Charley of Michael, as hecontinued in a stooping posture with his thumb in the cork-hole. 

"What wonderful odds and ends that chiel has in his head to be sure!"Mrs. Dewy admiringly exclaimed from the distance. "I lay a wager that hethinks more about how 'tis inside that barrel than in all the other partsof the world put together. "

All persons present put on a speaking countenance of admiration for thecleverness alluded to, in the midst of which Reuben returned. Theoperation was then satisfactorily performed; when Michael arose andstretched his head to the extremest fraction of height that his bodywould allow of, to re-straighten his back and shoulders--thrusting outhis arms and twisting his features to a mass of wrinkles to emphasize therelief aquired. A quart or two of the beverage was then brought totable, at which all the new arrivals reseated themselves with wide-spreadknees, their eyes meditatively seeking out any speck or knot in the boardupon which the gaze might precipitate itself. 

"Whatever is father a-biding out in fuel-house so long for?" said thetranter. "Never such a man as father for two things--cleaving up olddead apple-tree wood and playing the bass-viol. 'A'd pass his lifebetween the two, that 'a would. " He stepped to the door and opened it. 

"Father!"

"Ay!" rang thinly from round the corner. 

"Here's the barrel tapped, and we all a-waiting!"

A series of dull thuds, that had been heard without for some time past, now ceased; and after the light of a lantern had passed the window andmade wheeling rays upon the ceiling inside the eldest of the Dewy familyappeared. 

CHAPTER III: THE ASSEMBLED QUIRE

William Dewy--otherwise grandfather William--was now about seventy; yetan ardent vitality still preserved a warm and roughened bloom upon hisface, which reminded gardeners of the sunny side of a riperibstone-pippin; though a narrow strip of forehead, that was protectedfrom the weather by lying above the line of his hat-brim, seemed tobelong to some town man, so gentlemanly was its whiteness. His was ahumorous and kindly nature, not unmixed with a frequent melancholy; andhe had a firm religious faith. But to his neighbours he had no characterin particular. If they saw him pass by their windows when they had beenbottling off old mead, or when they had just been called long-headed menwho might do anything in the world if they chose, they thought concerninghim, "Ah, there's that good-hearted man--open as a child!" If they sawhim just after losing a shilling or half-a-crown, or accidentally lettingfall a piece of crockery, they thought, "There's that poor weak-mindedman Dewy again! Ah, he's never done much in the world either!" If hepassed when fortune neither smiled nor frowned on them, they merelythought him old William Dewy. 

"Ah, so's--here you be!--Ah, Michael and Joseph and John--and you too, Leaf! a merry Christmas all! We shall have a rare log-wood firedirectly, Reub, to reckon by the toughness of the job I had in cleaving'em. " As he spoke he threw down an armful of logs which fell in thechimney-corner with a rumble, and looked at them with something of theadmiring enmity he would have bestowed on living people who had been veryobstinate in holding their own. "Come in, grandfather James. "

Old James (grandfather on the maternal side) had simply called as avisitor. He lived in a cottage by himself, and many people consideredhim a miser; some, rather slovenly in his habits. He now came forwardfrom behind grandfather William, and his stooping figure formed a well-illuminated picture as he passed towards the fire-place. Being by tradea mason, he wore a long linen apron reaching almost to his toes, corduroybreeches and gaiters, which, together with his boots, graduated in tintsof whitish-brown by constant friction against lime and stone. He alsowore a very stiff fustian coat, having folds at the elbows and shouldersas unvarying in their arrangement as those in a pair of bellows: theridges and the projecting parts of the coat collectively exhibiting ashade different from that of the hollows, which were lined with smallditch-like accumulations of stone and mortar-dust. The extremely largeside-pockets, sheltered beneath wide flaps, bulged out convexly whetherempty or full; and as he was often engaged to work at buildings faraway--his breakfasts and dinners being eaten in a strange chimney-corner, by a garden wall, on a heap of stones, or walking along the road--hecarried in these pockets a small tin canister of butter, a small canisterof sugar, a small canister of tea, a paper of salt, and a paper ofpepper; the bread, cheese, and meat, forming the substance of his meals, hanging up behind him in his basket among the hammers and chisels. If apasser-by looked hard at him when he was drawing forth any of these, "Mybuttery, " he said, with a pinched smile. 

"Better try over number seventy-eight before we start, I suppose?" saidWilliam, pointing to a heap of old Christmas-carol books on a side table. 

"Wi' all my heart, " said the choir generally. 

"Number seventy-eight was always a teaser--always. I can mind him eversince I was growing up a hard boy-chap. "

"But he's a good tune, and worth a mint o' practice, " said Michael. 

"He is; though I've been mad enough wi' that tune at times to seize enand tear en all to linnit. Ay, he's a splendid carrel--there's nodenying that. "

"The first line is well enough, " said Mr. Spinks; "but when you come to'O, thou man, ' you make a mess o't. "

"We'll have another go into en, and see what we can make of the martel. Half-an-hour's hammering at en will conquer the toughness of en; I'llwarn it. "

"'Od rabbit it all!" said Mr. Penny, interrupting with a flash of hisspectacles, and at the same time clawing at something in the depths of alarge side-pocket. "If so be I hadn't been as scatter-brained andthirtingill as a chiel, I should have called at the schoolhouse wi' aboot as I cam up along. Whatever is coming to me I really can't estimateat all!"

"The brain has its weaknesses, " murmured Mr. Spinks, waving his headominously. Mr. Spinks was considered to be a scholar, having once kept anight-school, and always spoke up to that level. 

"Well, I must call with en the first thing to-morrow. And I'll empt mypocket o' this last too, if you don't mind, Mrs. Dewy. " He drew forth alast, and placed it on a table at his elbow. The eyes of three or fourfollowed it. 

"Well, " said the shoemaker, seeming to perceive that the interest theobject had excited was greater than he had anticipated, and warranted thelast's being taken up again and exhibited; "now, whose foot do ye supposethis last was made for? It was made for Geoffrey Day's father, over atYalbury Wood. Ah, many's the pair o' boots he've had off the last! Well, when 'a died, I used the last for Geoffrey, and have ever since, though alittle doctoring was wanted to make it do. Yes, a very queer naturedlast it is now, 'a b'lieve, " he continued, turning it over caressingly. "Now, you notice that there" (pointing to a lump of leather bradded tothe toe), "that's a very bad bunion that he've had ever since 'a was aboy. Now, this remarkable large piece" (pointing to a patch nailed tothe side), "shows a' accident he received by the tread of a horse, thatsquashed his foot a'most to a pomace. The horseshoe cam full-butt onthis point, you see. And so I've just been over to Geoffrey's, to knowif he wanted his bunion altered or made bigger in the new pair I'mmaking. "

During the latter part of this speech, Mr. Penny's left hand wanderedtowards the cider-cup, as if the hand had no connection with the personspeaking; and bringing his sentence to an abrupt close, all but theextreme margin of the bootmaker's face was eclipsed by the circular brimof the vessel. 

"However, I was going to say, " continued Penny, putting down the cup, "Iought to have called at the school"--here he went groping again in thedepths of his pocket--"to leave this without fail, though I suppose thefirst thing to-morrow will do. "

He now drew forth and placed upon the table a boot--small, light, andprettily shaped--upon the heel of which he had been operating. 

"The new schoolmistress's!"

"Ay, no less, Miss Fancy Day; as neat a little figure of fun as ever Isee, and just husband-high. "

"Never Geoffrey's daughter Fancy?" said Bowman, as all glances presentconverged like wheel-spokes upon the boot in the centre of them. 

"Yes, sure, " resumed Mr. Penny, regarding the boot as if that alone werehis auditor; "'tis she that's come here schoolmistress. You knowed hisdaughter was in training?"

"Strange, isn't it, for her to be here Christmas night, Master Penny?"

"Yes; but here she is, 'a b'lieve. "

"I know how she comes here--so I do!" chirruped one of the children. 

"Why?" Dick inquired, with subtle interest. 

"Pa'son Maybold was afraid he couldn't manage us all to-morrow at thedinner, and he talked o' getting her jist to come over and help him handabout the plates, and see we didn't make pigs of ourselves; and that'swhat she's come for!"

"And that's the boot, then, " continued its mender imaginatively, "thatshe'll walk to church in to-morrow morning. I don't care to mend boots Idon't make; but there's no knowing what it may lead to, and her fatheralways comes to me. "

There, between the cider-mug and the candle, stood this interestingreceptacle of the little unknown's foot; and a very pretty boot it was. Acharacter, in fact--the flexible bend at the instep, the roundedlocalities of the small nestling toes, scratches from careless scampersnow forgotten--all, as repeated in the tell-tale leather, evidencing anature and a bias. Dick surveyed it with a delicate feeling that he hadno right to do so without having first asked the owner of the foot'spermission. 

"Now, neighbours, though no common eye can see it, " the shoemaker wenton, "a man in the trade can see the likeness between this boot and thatlast, although that is so deformed as hardly to recall one of God'screatures, and this is one of as pretty a pair as you'd get for ten-and-sixpence in Casterbridge. To you, nothing; but 'tis father's voot anddaughter's voot to me, as plain as houses. "

"I don't doubt there's a likeness, Master Penny--a mild likeness--afantastical likeness, " said Spinks. "But I han't got imagination enoughto see it, perhaps. "

Mr. Penny adjusted his spectacles. 

"Now, I'll tell ye what happened to me once on this very point. You usedto know Johnson the dairyman, William?"

"Ay, sure; I did. "

"Well, 'twasn't opposite his house, but a little lower down--by hispaddock, in front o' Parkmaze Pool. I was a-bearing across towardsBloom's End, and lo and behold, there was a man just brought out o' thePool, dead; he had un'rayed for a dip, but not being able to pitch itjust there had gone in flop over his head. Men looked at en; womenlooked at en; children looked at en; nobody knowed en. He was coveredwi' a sheet; but I catched sight of his voot, just showing out as theycarried en along. 'I don't care what name that man went by, ' I said, inmy way, 'but he's John Woodward's brother; I can swear to the familyvoot. ' At that very moment up comes John Woodward, weeping and teaving, 'I've lost my brother! I've lost my brother!'"

"Only to think of that!" said Mrs. Dewy. 

"'Tis well enough to know this foot and that foot, " said Mr. Spinks. "'Tis long-headed, in fact, as far as feet do go. I know little, 'tistrue--I say no more; but show me a man's foot, and I'll tell you thatman's heart. "

"You must be a cleverer feller, then, than mankind in jineral, " said thetranter. 

"Well, that's nothing for me to speak of, " returned Mr. Spinks. "A manlives and learns. Maybe I've read a leaf or two in my time. I don'twish to say anything large, mind you; but nevertheless, maybe I have. "

"Yes, I know, " said Michael soothingly, "and all the parish knows, thatye've read sommat of everything a'most, and have been a great filler ofyoung folks' brains. Learning's a worthy thing, and ye've got it, MasterSpinks. "

"I make no boast, though I may have read and thought a little; and Iknow--it may be from much perusing, but I make no boast--that by the timea man's head is finished, 'tis almost time for him to creep underground. I am over forty-five. "

Mr. Spinks emitted a look to signify that if his head was not finished, nobody's head ever could be. 

"Talk of knowing people by their feet!" said Reuben. "Rot me, mysonnies, then, if I can tell what a man is from all his members puttogether, oftentimes. "

"But still, look is a good deal, " observed grandfather William absently, moving and balancing his head till the tip of grandfather James's nosewas exactly in a right line with William's eye and the mouth of aminiature cavern he was discerning in the fire. "By the way, " hecontinued in a fresher voice, and looking up, "that young crater, theschoolmis'ess, must be sung to to-night wi' the rest? If her ear is asfine as her face, we shall have enough to do to be up-sides with her. "

"What about her face?" said young Dewy. 

"Well, as to that, " Mr. Spinks replied, "'tis a face you can hardlygainsay. A very good pink face, as far as that do go. Still, only aface, when all is said and done. "

"Come, come, Elias Spinks, say she's a pretty maid, and have done wi'her, " said the tranter, again preparing to visit the cider-barrel. 

CHAPTER IV: GOING THE ROUNDS

Shortly after ten o'clock the singing-boys arrived at the tranter'shouse, which was invariably the place of meeting, and preparations weremade for the start. The older men and musicians wore thick coats, withstiff perpendicular collars, and coloured handkerchiefs wound round andround the neck till the end came to hand, over all which they just showedtheir ears and noses, like people looking over a wall. The remainder, stalwart ruddy men and boys, were dressed mainly in snow-whitesmock-frocks, embroidered upon the shoulders and breasts, in ornamentalforms of hearts, diamonds, and zigzags. The cider-mug was emptied forthe ninth time, the music-books were arranged, and the pieces finallydecided upon. The boys in the meantime put the old horn-lanterns inorder, cut candles into short lengths to fit the lanterns; and, a thinfleece of snow having fallen since the early part of the evening, thosewho had no leggings went to the stable and wound wisps of hay round theirankles to keep the insidious flakes from the interior of their boots. 

Mellstock was a parish of considerable acreage, the hamlets composing itlying at a much greater distance from each other than is ordinarily thecase. Hence several hours were consumed in playing and singing withinhearing of every family, even if but a single air were bestowed on each. There was Lower Mellstock, the main village; half a mile from this werethe church and vicarage, and a few other houses, the spot being ratherlonely now, though in past centuries it had been the mostthickly-populated quarter of the parish. A mile north-east lay thehamlet of Upper Mellstock, where the tranter lived; and at other pointsknots of cottages, besides solitary farmsteads and dairies. 

Old William Dewy, with the violoncello, played the bass; his grandsonDick the treble violin; and Reuben and Michael Mail the tenor and secondviolins respectively. The singers consisted of four men and seven boys, upon whom devolved the task of carrying and attending to the lanterns, and holding the books open for the players. Directly music was thetheme, old William ever and instinctively came to the front. 

"Now mind, neighbours, " he said, as they all went out one by one at thedoor, he himself holding it ajar and regarding them with a critical faceas they passed, like a shepherd counting out his sheep. "You two counter-boys, keep your ears open to Michael's fingering, and don't ye gostraying into the treble part along o' Dick and his set, as ye did lastyear; and mind this especially when we be in 'Arise, and hail. ' BillyChimlen, don't you sing quite so raving mad as you fain would; and, allo' ye, whatever ye do, keep from making a great scuffle on the groundwhen we go in at people's gates; but go quietly, so as to strike up allof a sudden, like spirits. "

"Farmer Ledlow's first?"

"Farmer Ledlow's first; the rest as usual. "

"And, Voss, " said the tranter terminatively, "you keep house here tillabout half-past two; then heat the metheglin and cider in the warmeryou'll find turned up upon the copper; and bring it wi' the victuals tochurch-hatch, as th'st know. "

* * * * *

Just before the clock struck twelve they lighted the lanterns andstarted. The moon, in her third quarter, had risen since the snowstorm;but the dense accumulation of snow-cloud weakened her power to a fainttwilight, which was rather pervasive of the landscape than traceable tothe sky. The breeze had gone down, and the rustle of their feet andtones of their speech echoed with an alert rebound from every post, boundary-stone, and ancient wall they passed, even where the distance ofthe echo's origin was less than a few yards. Beyond their own slightnoises nothing was to be heard, save the occasional bark of foxes in thedirection of Yalbury Wood, or the brush of a rabbit among the grass nowand then, as it scampered out of their way. 

Most of the outlying homesteads and hamlets had been visited by about twoo'clock; they then passed across the outskirts of a wooded park towardthe main village, nobody being at home at the Manor. Pursuing norecognized track, great care was necessary in walking lest their facesshould come in contact with the low-hanging boughs of the old lime-trees, which in many spots formed dense over-growths of interlaced branches. 

"Times have changed from the times they used to be, " said Mail, regardingnobody can tell what interesting old panoramas with an inward eye, andletting his outward glance rest on the ground, because it was asconvenient a position as any. "People don't care much about us now! I'vebeen thinking we must be almost the last left in the county of the oldstring players? Barrel-organs, and the things next door to 'em that youblow wi' your foot, have come in terribly of late years. "

"Ay!" said Bowman, shaking his head; and old William, on seeing him, didthe same thing. 

"More's the pity, " replied another. "Time was--long and merry agonow!--when not one of the varmits was to be heard of; but it served someof the quires right. They should have stuck to strings as we did, andkept out clarinets, and done away with serpents. If you'd thrive inmusical religion, stick to strings, says I. "

"Strings be safe soul-lifters, as far as that do go, " said Mr. Spinks. 

"Yet there's worse things than serpents, " said Mr. Penny. "Old thingspass away, 'tis true; but a serpent was a good old note: a deep rich notewas the serpent. "

"Clar'nets, however, be bad at all times, " said Michael Mail. "OneChristmas--years agone now, years--I went the rounds wi' the Weatherburyquire. 'Twas a hard frosty night, and the keys of all the clar'netsfroze--ah, they did freeze!--so that 'twas like drawing a cork every timea key was opened; and the players o' 'em had to go into ahedger-and-ditcher's chimley-corner, and thaw their clar'nets every nowand then. An icicle o' spet hung down from the end of every man'sclar'net a span long; and as to fingers--well, there, if ye'll believeme, we had no fingers at all, to our knowing. "

"I can well bring back to my mind, " said Mr. Penny, "what I said to poorJoseph Ryme (who took the treble part in Chalk-Newton Church for two-and-forty year) when they thought of having clar'nets there. 'Joseph, ' Isaid, says I, 'depend upon't, if so be you have them tooting clar'netsyou'll spoil the whole set-out. Clar'nets were not made for the serviceof the Lard; you can see it by looking at 'em, ' I said. And what cameo't? Why, souls, the parson set up a barrel-organ on his own accountwithin two years o' the time I spoke, and the old quire went to nothing. "

"As far as look is concerned, " said the tranter, "I don't for my part seethat a fiddle is much nearer heaven than a clar'net. 'Tis further off. There's always a rakish, scampish twist about a fiddle's looks that seemsto say the Wicked One had a hand in making o'en; while angels be supposedto play clar'nets in heaven, or som'at like 'em, if ye may believepicters. "

"Robert Penny, you was in the right, " broke in the eldest Dewy. "Theyshould ha' stuck to strings. Your brass-man is a rafting dog--well andgood; your reed-man is a dab at stirring ye--well and good; your drum-manis a rare bowel-shaker--good again. But I don't care who hears me sayit, nothing will spak to your heart wi' the sweetness o' the man ofstrings!"

"Strings for ever!" said little Jimmy. 

"Strings alone would have held their ground against all the new comers increation. " ("True, true!" said Bowman. ) "But clarinets was death. "("Death they was!" said Mr. Penny. ) "And harmonions, " William continuedin a louder voice, and getting excited by these signs of approval, "harmonions and barrel-organs" ("Ah!" and groans from Spinks) "bemiserable--what shall I call 'em?--miserable--"

"Sinners, " suggested Jimmy, who made large strides like the men, and didnot lag behind like the other little boys. 

"Miserable dumbledores!"

"Right, William, and so they be--miserable dumbledores!" said the choirwith unanimity. 

By this time they were crossing to a gate in the direction of the school, which, standing on a slight eminence at the junction of three ways, nowrose in unvarying and dark flatness against the sky. The instrumentswere retuned, and all the band entered the school enclosure, enjoined byold William to keep upon the grass. 

"Number seventy-eight, " he softly gave out as they formed round in asemicircle, the boys opening the lanterns to get a clearer light, anddirecting their rays on the books. 

Then passed forth into the quiet night an ancient and time-worn hymn, embodying a quaint Christianity in words orally transmitted from fatherto son through several generations down to the present characters, whosang them out right earnestly:

 "Remember Adam's fall, O thou Man: Remember Adam's fall From Heaven to Hell. Remember Adam's fall; How he hath condemn'd all In Hell perpetual There for to dwell. 

 Remember God's goodnesse, O thou Man: Remember God's goodnesse, His promise made. Remember God's goodnesse; He sent His Son sinlesse Our ails for to redress; Be not afraid!

 In Bethlehem He was born, O thou Man: In Bethlehem He was born, For mankind's sake. In Bethlehem He was born, Christmas-day i' the morn: Our Saviour thought no scorn Our faults to take. 

 Give thanks to God alway, O thou Man: Give thanks to God alway With heart-most joy. Give thanks to God alway On this our joyful day: Let all men sing and say, Holy, Holy!"

Having concluded the last note, they listened for a minute or two, butfound that no sound issued from the schoolhouse. 

"Four breaths, and then, 'O, what unbounded goodness!' numberfifty-nine, " said William. 

This was duly gone through, and no notice whatever seemed to be taken ofthe performance. 

"Good guide us, surely 'tisn't a' empty house, as befell us in the yearthirty-nine and forty-three!" said old Dewy. 

"Perhaps she's jist come from some musical city, and sneers at ourdoings?" the tranter whispered. 

"'Od rabbit her!" said Mr. Penny, with an annihilating look at a cornerof the school chimney, "I don't quite stomach her, if this is it. Yourplain music well done is as worthy as your other sort done bad, a'b'lieve, souls; so say I. "

"Four breaths, and then the last, " said the leader authoritatively. "'Rejoice, ye Tenants of the Earth, ' number sixty-four. "

At the close, waiting yet another minute, he said in a clear loud voice, as he had said in the village at that hour and season for the previousforty years--"A merry Christmas to ye!"

CHAPTER V: THE LISTENERS

When the expectant stillness consequent upon the exclamation had nearlydied out of them all, an increasing light made itself visible in one ofthe windows of the upper floor. It came so close to the blind that theexact position of the flame could be perceived from the outside. Remaining steady for an instant, the blind went upward from before it, revealing to thirty concentrated eyes a young girl, framed as a pictureby the window architrave, and unconsciously illuminating her countenanceto a vivid brightness by a candle she held in her left hand, close to herface, her right hand being extended to the side of the window. She waswrapped in a white robe of some kind, whilst down her shoulders fell atwining profusion of marvellously rich hair, in a wild disorder whichproclaimed it to be only during the invisible hours of the night thatsuch a condition was discoverable. Her bright eyes were looking into thegrey world outside with an uncertain expression, oscillating betweencourage and shyness, which, as she recognized the semicircular group ofdark forms gathered before her, transformed itself into pleasantresolution. 

Opening the window, she said lightly and warmly--"Thank you, singers, thank you!"

Together went the window quickly and quietly, and the blind starteddownward on its return to its place. Her fair forehead and eyesvanished; her little mouth; her neck and shoulders; all of her. Then thespot of candlelight shone nebulously as before; then it moved away. 

"How pretty!" exclaimed Dick Dewy. 

"If she'd been rale wexwork she couldn't ha' been comelier, " said MichaelMail. 

"As near a thing to a spiritual vision as ever I wish to see!" saidtranter Dewy. 

"O, sich I never, never see!" said Leaf fervently. 

All the rest, after clearing their throats and adjusting their hats, agreed that such a sight was worth singing for. 

"Now to Farmer Shiner's, and then replenish our insides, father?" saidthe tranter. 

"Wi' all my heart, " said old William, shouldering his bass-viol. 

Farmer Shiner's was a queer lump of a house, standing at the corner of alane that ran into the principal thoroughfare. The upper windows weremuch wider than they were high, and this feature, together with a broadbay-window where the door might have been expected, gave it by day theaspect of a human countenance turned askance, and wearing a sly andwicked leer. To-night nothing was visible but the outline of the roofupon the sky. 

The front of this building was reached, and the preliminaries arranged asusual. 

"Four breaths, and number thirty-two, 'Behold the Morning Star, '" saidold William. 

They had reached the end of the second verse, and the fiddlers were doingthe up bow-stroke previously to pouring forth the opening chord of thethird verse, when, without a light appearing or any signal being given, aroaring voice exclaimed--

"Shut up, woll 'ee! Don't make your blaring row here! A feller wi' aheadache enough to split his skull likes a quiet night!"

Slam went the window. 

"Hullo, that's a' ugly blow for we!" said the tranter, in a keenlyappreciative voice, and turning to his companions. 

"Finish the carrel, all who be friends of harmony!" commanded oldWilliam; and they continued to the end. 

"Four breaths, and number nineteen!" said William firmly. "Give it himwell; the quire can't be insulted in this manner!"

A light now flashed into existence, the window opened, and the farmerstood revealed as one in a terrific passion. 

"Drown en!--drown en!" the tranter cried, fiddling frantically. "Playfortissimy, and drown his spaking!"

"Fortissimy!" said Michael Mail, and the music and singing waxed so loudthat it was impossible to know what Mr. Shiner had said, was saying, orwas about to say; but wildly flinging his arms and body about in theforms of capital Xs and Ys, he appeared to utter enough invectives toconsign the whole parish to perdition. 

"Very onseemly--very!" said old William, as they retired. "Never such adreadful scene in the whole round o' my carrel practice--never! And he achurchwarden!"

"Only a drap o' drink got into his head, " said the tranter. "Man's wellenough when he's in his religious frame. He's in his worldly frame now. Must ask en to our bit of a party to-morrow night, I suppose, and so puten in humour again. We bear no mortal man ill-will. "

They now crossed Mellstock Bridge, and went along an embowered pathbeside the Froom towards the church and vicarage, meeting Voss with thehot mead and bread-and-cheese as they were approaching the churchyard. This determined them to eat and drink before proceeding further, and theyentered the church and ascended to the gallery. The lanterns wereopened, and the whole body sat round against the walls on benches andwhatever else was available, and made a hearty meal. In the pauses ofconversation there could be heard through the floor overhead a littleworld of undertones and creaks from the halting clockwork, which neverspread further than the tower they were born in, and raised in the moremeditative minds a fancy that here lay the direct pathway of Time. 

Having done eating and drinking, they again tuned the instruments, andonce more the party emerged into the night air. 

"Where's Dick?" said old Dewy. 

Every man looked round upon every other man, as if Dick might have beentransmuted into one or the other; and then they said they didn't know. 

"Well now, that's what I call very nasty of Master Dicky, that I do, "said Michael Mail. 

"He've clinked off home-along, depend upon't, " another suggested, thoughnot quite believing that he had. 

"Dick!" exclaimed the tranter, and his voice rolled sonorously forthamong the yews. 

He suspended his muscles rigid as stone whilst listening for an answer, and finding he listened in vain, turned to the assemblage. 

"The treble man too! Now if he'd been a tenor or counter chap, we mightha' contrived the rest o't without en, you see. But for a quire to losethe treble, why, my sonnies, you may so well lose your . . . " Thetranter paused, unable to mention an image vast enough for the occasion. 

"Your head at once, " suggested Mr. Penny. 

The tranter moved a pace, as if it were puerile of people to completesentences when there were more pressing things to be done. 

"Was ever heard such a thing as a young man leaving his work half doneand turning tail like this!"

"Never, " replied Bowman, in a tone signifying that he was the last man inthe world to wish to withhold the formal finish required of him. 

"I hope no fatal tragedy has overtook the lad!" said his grandfather. 

"O no, " replied tranter Dewy placidly. "Wonder where he's put that therefiddle of his. Why that fiddle cost thirty shillings, and good wordsbesides. Somewhere in the damp, without doubt; that instrument will beunglued and spoilt in ten minutes--ten! ay, two. "

"What in the name o' righteousness can have happened?" said old William, more uneasily. "Perhaps he's drownded!"

Leaving their lanterns and instruments in the belfry they retraced theirsteps along the waterside track. "A strapping lad like Dick d'knowbetter than let anything happen onawares, " Reuben remarked. "There'ssure to be some poor little scram reason for't staring us in the face allthe while. " He lowered his voice to a mysterious tone: "Neighbours, haveye noticed any sign of a scornful woman in his head, or suchlike?"

"Not a glimmer of such a body. He's as clear as water yet. "

"And Dicky said he should never marry, " cried Jimmy, "but live at homealways along wi' mother and we!"

"Ay, ay, my sonny; every lad has said that in his time. "

They had now again reached the precincts of Mr. Shiner's, but hearingnobody in that direction, one or two went across to the schoolhouse. Alight was still burning in the bedroom, and though the blind was down, the window had been slightly opened, as if to admit the distant notes ofthe carollers to the ears of the occupant of the room. 

Opposite the window, leaning motionless against a beech tree, was thelost man, his arms folded, his head thrown back, his eyes fixed upon theilluminated lattice. 

"Why, Dick, is that thee? What b'st doing here?"

Dick's body instantly flew into a more rational attitude, and his headwas seen to turn east and west in the gloom, as if endeavouring todiscern some proper answer to that question; and at last he said inrather feeble accents--"Nothing, father. "

"Th'st take long enough time about it then, upon my body, " said thetranter, as they all turned anew towards the vicarage. 

"I thought you hadn't done having snap in the gallery, " said Dick. 

"Why, we've been traypsing and rambling about, looking everywhere, andthinking you'd done fifty deathly things, and here have you been atnothing at all!"

"The stupidness lies in that point of it being nothing at all, " murmuredMr. Spinks. 

The vicarage front was their next field of operation, and Mr. Maybold, the lately-arrived incumbent, duly received his share of the night'sharmonies. It was hoped that by reason of his profession he would havebeen led to open the window, and an extra carol in quick time was addedto draw him forth. But Mr. Maybold made no stir. 

"A bad sign!" said old William, shaking his head. 

However, at that same instant a musical voice was heard exclaiming frominner depths of bedclothes--"Thanks, villagers!"

"What did he say?" asked Bowman, who was rather dull of hearing. Bowman'svoice, being therefore loud, had been heard by the vicar within. 

"I said, 'Thanks, villagers!'" cried the vicar again. 

"Oh, we didn't hear 'ee the first time!" cried Bowman. 

"Now don't for heaven's sake spoil the young man's temper by answeringlike that!" said the tranter. 

"You won't do that, my friends!" the vicar shouted. 

"Well to be sure, what ears!" said Mr. Penny in a whisper. "Beats anyhorse or dog in the parish, and depend upon't, that's a sign he's aproper clever chap. "

"We shall see that in time, " said the tranter. 

Old William, in his gratitude for such thanks from a comparatively newinhabitant, was anxious to play all the tunes over again; but renouncedhis desire on being reminded by Reuben that it would be best to leavewell alone. 

"Now putting two and two together, " the tranter continued, as they wenttheir way over the hill, and across to the last remaining houses; "thatis, in the form of that young female vision we zeed just now, and thisyoung tenor-voiced parson, my belief is she'll wind en round her finger, and twist the pore young feller about like the figure of 8--that she willso, my sonnies. "

CHAPTER VI: CHRISTMAS MORNING

The choir at last reached their beds, and slept like the rest of theparish. Dick's slumbers, through the three or four hours remaining forrest, were disturbed and slight; an exhaustive variation upon theincidents that had passed that night in connection with the school-windowgoing on in his brain every moment of the time. 

In the morning, do what he would--go upstairs, downstairs, out of doors, speak of the wind and weather, or what not--he could not refrain from anunceasing renewal, in imagination, of that interesting enactment. Tiltedon the edge of one foot he stood beside the fireplace, watching hismother grilling rashers; but there was nothing in grilling, he thought, unless the Vision grilled. The limp rasher hung down between the bars ofthe gridiron like a cat in a child's arms; but there was nothing insimiles, unless She uttered them. He looked at the daylight shadows of ayellow hue, dancing with the firelight shadows in blue on the whitewashedchimney corner, but there was nothing in shadows. "Perhaps the new youngwom--sch--Miss Fancy Day will sing in church with us this morning, " hesaid. 

The tranter looked a long time before he replied, "I fancy she will; andyet I fancy she won't. "

Dick implied that such a remark was rather to be tolerated than admired;though deliberateness in speech was known to have, as a rule, more to dowith the machinery of the tranter's throat than with the matterenunciated. 

They made preparations for going to church as usual; Dick with extremealacrity, though he would not definitely consider why he was soreligious. His wonderful nicety in brushing and cleaning his best lightboots had features which elevated it to the rank of an art. Everyparticle and speck of last week's mud was scraped and brushed from toeand heel; new blacking from the packet was carefully mixed and made useof, regardless of expense. A coat was laid on and polished; then anothercoat for increased blackness; and lastly a third, to give the perfect andmirror-like jet which the hoped-for rencounter demanded. 

It being Christmas-day, the tranter prepared himself with Sundayparticularity. Loud sousing and snorting noises were heard to proceedfrom a tub in the back quarters of the dwelling, proclaiming that he wasthere performing his great Sunday wash, lasting half-an-hour, to whichhis washings on working-day mornings were mere flashes in the pan. Vanishing into the outhouse with a large brown towel, and the above-namedbubblings and snortings being carried on for about twenty minutes, thetranter would appear round the edge of the door, smelling like a summerfog, and looking as if he had just narrowly escaped a watery grave withthe loss of much of his clothes, having since been weeping bitterly tillhis eyes were red; a crystal drop of water hanging ornamentally at thebottom of each ear, one at the tip of his nose, and others in the form ofspangles about his hair. 

After a great deal of crunching upon the sanded stone floor by the feetof father, son, and grandson as they moved to and fro in thesepreparations, the bass-viol and fiddles were taken from their nook, andthe strings examined and screwed a little above concert-pitch, that theymight keep their tone when the service began, to obviate the awkwardcontingency of having to retune them at the back of the gallery during acough, sneeze, or amen--an inconvenience which had been known to arise indamp wintry weather. 

The three left the door and paced down Mellstock-lane and across the ewe-lease, bearing under their arms the instruments in faded green-baizebags, and old brown music-books in their hands; Dick continually findinghimself in advance of the other two, and the tranter moving on with toesturned outwards to an enormous angle. 

At the foot of an incline the church became visible through the northgate, or 'church hatch, ' as it was called here. Seven agile figures in aclump were observable beyond, which proved to be the choristers waiting;sitting on an altar-tomb to pass the time, and letting their heels dangleagainst it. The musicians being now in sight, the youthful partyscampered off and rattled up the old wooden stairs of the gallery like aregiment of cavalry; the other boys of the parish waiting outside andobserving birds, cats, and other creatures till the vicar entered, whenthey suddenly subsided into sober church-goers, and passed down the aislewith echoing heels. 

The gallery of Mellstock Church had a status and sentiment of its own. Astranger there was regarded with a feeling altogether differing from thatof the congregation below towards him. Banished from the nave as anintruder whom no originality could make interesting, he was receivedabove as a curiosity that no unfitness could render dull. The gallery, too, looked down upon and knew the habits of the nave to its remotestpeculiarity, and had an extensive stock of exclusive information aboutit; whilst the nave knew nothing of the gallery folk, as gallery folk, beyond their loud-sounding minims and chest notes. Such topics as thatthe clerk was always chewing tobacco except at the moment of crying amen;that he had a dust-hole in his pew; that during the sermon certain youngdaughters of the village had left off caring to read anything so mild asthe marriage service for some years, and now regularly studied the onewhich chronologically follows it; that a pair of lovers touched fingersthrough a knot-hole between their pews in the manner ordained by theirgreat exemplars, Pyramus and Thisbe; that Mrs. Ledlow, the farmer's wife, counted her money and reckoned her week's marketing expenses during thefirst lesson--all news to those below--were stale subjects here. 

Old William sat in the centre of the front row, his violoncello betweenhis knees and two singers on each hand. Behind him, on the left, camethe treble singers and Dick; and on the right the tranter and the tenors. Farther back was old Mail with the altos and supernumeraries. 

But before they had taken their places, and whilst they were standing ina circle at the back of the gallery practising a psalm or two, Dick casthis eyes over his grandfather's shoulder, and saw the vision of the pastnight enter the porch-door as methodically as if she had never been avision at all. A new atmosphere seemed suddenly to be puffed into theancient edifice by her movement, which made Dick's body and soul tinglewith novel sensations. Directed by Shiner, the churchwarden, sheproceeded to the small aisle on the north side of the chancel, a spot nowallotted to a throng of Sunday-school girls, and distinctly visible fromthe gallery-front by looking under the curve of the furthermost arch onthat side. 

Before this moment the church had seemed comparatively empty--now it wasthronged; and as Miss Fancy rose from her knees and looked around her fora permanent place in which to deposit herself--finally choosing theremotest corner--Dick began to breathe more freely the warm new air shehad brought with her; to feel rushings of blood, and to have impressionsthat there was a tie between her and himself visible to all thecongregation. 

Ever afterwards the young man could recollect individually each part ofthe service of that bright Christmas morning, and the triflingoccurrences which took place as its minutes slowly drew along; the dutiesof that day dividing themselves by a complete line from the services ofother times. The tunes they that morning essayed remained with him foryears, apart from all others; also the text; also the appearance of thelayer of dust upon the capitals of the piers; that the holly-bough in thechancel archway was hung a little out of the centre--all the ideas, inshort, that creep into the mind when reason is only exercising its lowestactivity through the eye. 

By chance or by fate, another young man who attended Mellstock Church onthat Christmas morning had towards the end of the service the sameinstinctive perception of an interesting presence, in the shape of thesame bright maiden, though his emotion reached a far less developedstage. And there was this difference, too, that the person in questionwas surprised at his condition, and sedulously endeavoured to reducehimself to his normal state of mind. He was the young vicar, Mr. Maybold. 

The music on Christmas mornings was frequently below the standard ofchurch-performances at other times. The boys were sleepy from the heavyexertions of the night; the men were slightly wearied; and now, inaddition to these constant reasons, there was a dampness in theatmosphere that still further aggravated the evil. Their strings, fromthe recent long exposure to the night air, rose whole semitones, andsnapped with a loud twang at the most silent moment; which necessitatedmore retiring than ever to the back of the gallery, and made the gallerythroats quite husky with the quantity of coughing and hemming requiredfor tuning in. The vicar looked cross. 

When the singing was in progress there was suddenly discovered to be astrong and shrill reinforcement from some point, ultimately found to bethe school-girls' aisle. At every attempt it grew bolder and moredistinct. At the third time of singing, these intrusive feminine voiceswere as mighty as those of the regular singers; in fact, the flood ofsound from this quarter assumed such an individuality, that it had atime, a key, almost a tune of its own, surging upwards when the galleryplunged downwards, and the reverse. 

Now this had never happened before within the memory of man. The girls, like the rest of the congregation, had always been humble and respectfulfollowers of the gallery; singing at sixes and sevens if without galleryleaders; never interfering with the ordinances of these practisedartists--having no will, union, power, or proclivity except it was giventhem from the established choir enthroned above them. 

A good deal of desperation became noticeable in the gallery throats andstrings, which continued throughout the musical portion of the service. Directly the fiddles were laid down, Mr. Penny's spectacles put in theirsheath, and the text had been given out, an indignant whispering began. 

"Did ye hear that, souls?" Mr. Penny said, in a groaning breath. 

"Brazen-faced hussies!" said Bowman. 

"True; why, they were every note as loud as we, fiddles and all, if notlouder!"

"Fiddles and all!" echoed Bowman bitterly. 

"Shall anything saucier be found than united 'ooman?" Mr. Spinksmurmured. 

"What I want to know is, " said the tranter (as if he knew already, butthat civilization required the form of words), "what business people haveto tell maidens to sing like that when they don't sit in a gallery, andnever have entered one in their lives? That's the question, my sonnies. "

"'Tis the gallery have got to sing, all the world knows, " said Mr. Penny. "Why, souls, what's the use o' the ancients spending scores of pounds tobuild galleries if people down in the lowest depths of the church singlike that at a moment's notice?"

"Really, I think we useless ones had better march out of church, fiddlesand all!" said Mr. Spinks, with a laugh which, to a stranger, would havesounded mild and real. Only the initiated body of men he addressed couldunderstand the horrible bitterness of irony that lurked under the quietwords 'useless ones, ' and the ghastliness of the laughter apparently sonatural. 

"Never mind! Let 'em sing too--'twill make it all the louder--hee, hee!"said Leaf. 

"Thomas Leaf, Thomas Leaf! Where have you lived all your life?" saidgrandfather William sternly. 

The quailing Leaf tried to look as if he had lived nowhere at all. 

"When all's said and done, my sonnies, " Reuben said, "there'd have beenno real harm in their singing if they had let nobody hear 'em, and onlyjined in now and then. "

"None at all, " said Mr. Penny. "But though I don't wish to accuse peoplewrongfully, I'd say before my lord judge that I could hear every note o'that last psalm come from 'em as much as from us--every note as if 'twastheir own. "

"Know it! ah, I should think I did know it!" Mr. Spinks was heard toobserve at this moment, without reference to his fellow players--shakinghis head at some idea he seemed to see floating before him, and smilingas if he were attending a funeral at the time. "Ah, do I or don't I knowit!"

No one said "Know what?" because all were aware from experience that whathe knew would declare itself in process of time. 

"I could fancy last night that we should have some trouble wi' that youngman, " said the tranter, pending the continuance of Spinks's speech, andlooking towards the unconscious Mr. Maybold in the pulpit. 

"I fancy, " said old William, rather severely, "I fancy there's too muchwhispering going on to be of any spiritual use to gentle or simple. " Thenfolding his lips and concentrating his glance on the vicar, he impliedthat none but the ignorant would speak again; and accordingly there wassilence in the gallery, Mr. Spinks's telling speech remaining for everunspoken. 

Dick had said nothing, and the tranter little, on this episode of themorning; for Mrs. Dewy at breakfast expressed it as her intention toinvite the youthful leader of the culprits to the small party it wascustomary with them to have on Christmas night--a piece of knowledgewhich had given a particular brightness to Dick's reflections since hehad received it. And in the tranter's slightly-cynical nature, partyfeeling was weaker than in the other members of the choir, thoughfriendliness and faithful partnership still sustained in him a heartyearnestness on their account. 

CHAPTER VII: THE TRANTER'S PARTY

During the afternoon unusual activity was seen to prevail about theprecincts of tranter Dewy's house. The flagstone floor was swept ofdust, and a sprinkling of the finest yellow sand from the innermoststratum of the adjoining sand-pit lightly scattered thereupon. Then wereproduced large knives and forks, which had been shrouded in darkness andgrease since the last occasion of the kind, and bearing upon their sides, "Shear-steel, warranted, " in such emphatic letters of assurance, that thewarranter's name was not required as further proof, and not given. Thekey was left in the tap of the cider-barrel, instead of being carried ina pocket. And finally the tranter had to stand up in the room and lethis wife wheel him round like a turnstile, to see if anythingdiscreditable was visible in his appearance. 

"Stand still till I've been for the scissors, " said Mrs. Dewy. 

The tranter stood as still as a sentinel at the challenge. 

The only repairs necessary were a trimming of one or two whiskers thathad extended beyond the general contour of the mass; a like trimming of aslightly-frayed edge visible on his shirt-collar; and a final tug at agrey hair--to all of which operations he submitted in resigned silence, except the last, which produced a mild "Come, come, Ann, " by way ofexpostulation. 

"Really, Reuben, 'tis quite a disgrace to see such a man, " said Mrs. Dewy, with the severity justifiable in a long-tried companion, giving himanother turn round, and picking several of Smiler's hairs from theshoulder of his coat. Reuben's thoughts seemed engaged elsewhere, and heyawned. "And the collar of your coat is a shame to behold--so plasteredwith dirt, or dust, or grease, or something. Why, wherever could youhave got it?"

"'Tis my warm nater in summer-time, I suppose. I always did get in sucha heat when I bustle about. "

"Ay, the Dewys always were such a coarse-skinned family. There's yourbrother Bob just as bad--as fat as a porpoise--wi' his low, mean, 'How'stdo, Ann?' whenever he meets me. I'd 'How'st do' him indeed! If the sunonly shines out a minute, there be you all streaming in the face--I neversee!"

"If I be hot week-days, I must be hot Sundays. "

"If any of the girls should turn after their father 'twill be a bad look-out for 'em, poor things! None of my family were sich vulgar sweaters, not one of 'em. But, Lord-a-mercy, the Dewys! I don't know how ever Icam' into such a family!"

"Your woman's weakness when I asked ye to jine us. That's how it was Isuppose. " But the tranter appeared to have heard some such words fromhis wife before, and hence his answer had not the energy it might haveshown if the inquiry had possessed the charm of novelty. 

"You never did look so well in a pair o' trousers as in them, " shecontinued in the same unimpassioned voice, so that the unfriendlycriticism of the Dewy family seemed to have been more normal thanspontaneous. "Such a cheap pair as 'twas too. As big as any man couldwish to have, and lined inside, and double-lined in the lower parts, andan extra piece of stiffening at the bottom. And 'tis a nice high cutthat comes up right under your armpits, and there's enough turned downinside the seams to make half a pair more, besides a piece of cloth leftthat will make an honest waistcoat--all by my contriving in buying thestuff at a bargain, and having it made up under my eye. It only showswhat may be done by taking a little trouble, and not going straight tothe rascally tailors. "

The discourse was cut short by the sudden appearance of Charley on thescene, with a face and hands of hideous blackness, and a nose like aguttering candle. Why, on that particularly cleanly afternoon, he shouldhave discovered that the chimney-crook and chain from which the hams weresuspended should have possessed more merits and general interest asplaythings than any other articles in the house, is a question fornursing mothers to decide. However, the humour seemed to lie in theresult being, as has been seen, that any given player with these articleswas in the long-run daubed with soot. The last that was seen of Charleyby daylight after this piece of ingenuity was when in the act ofvanishing from his father's presence round the corner of thehouse--looking back over his shoulder with an expression of great sin onhis face, like Cain as the Outcast in Bible pictures. 

* * * * *

The guests had all assembled, and the tranter's party had reached thatdegree of development which accords with ten o'clock P. M. In ruralassemblies. At that hour the sound of a fiddle in process of tuning washeard from the inner pantry. 

"That's Dick, " said the tranter. "That lad's crazy for a jig. "

"Dick! Now I cannot--really, I cannot have any dancing at all tillChristmas-day is out, " said old William emphatically. "When the clockha' done striking twelve, dance as much as ye like. "

"Well, I must say there's reason in that, William, " said Mrs. Penny. "Ifyou do have a party on Christmas-night, 'tis only fair and honourable tothe sky-folk to have it a sit-still party. Jigging parties be all verywell on the Devil's holidays; but a jigging party looks suspicious now. Oyes; stop till the clock strikes, young folk--so say I. "

It happened that some warm mead accidentally got into Mr. Spinks's headabout this time. 

"Dancing, " he said, "is a most strengthening, livening, and courtingmovement, 'specially with a little beverage added! And dancing is good. But why disturb what is ordained, Richard and Reuben, and the companyzhinerally? Why, I ask, as far as that do go?"

"Then nothing till after twelve, " said William. 

Though Reuben and his wife ruled on social points, religious questionswere mostly disposed of by the old man, whose firmness on this head quitecounterbalanced a certain weakness in his handling of domestic matters. The hopes of the younger members of the household were thereforerelegated to a distance of one hour and three-quarters--a result thattook visible shape in them by a remote and listless look about theeyes--the singing of songs being permitted in the interim. 

At five minutes to twelve the soft tuning was again heard in the backquarters; and when at length the clock had whizzed forth the last stroke, Dick appeared ready primed, and the instruments were boldly handled; oldWilliam very readily taking the bass-viol from its accustomed nail, andtouching the strings as irreligiously as could be desired. 

The country-dance called the 'Triumph, or Follow my Lover, ' was thefigure with which they opened. The tranter took for his partner Mrs. Penny, and Mrs. Dewy was chosen by Mr. Penny, who made so much of hislimited height by a judicious carriage of the head, straightening of theback, and important flashes of his spectacle-glasses, that he seemedalmost as tall as the tranter. Mr. Shiner, age about thirty-five, farmerand church-warden, a character principally composed of a crimson stare, vigorous breath, and a watch-chain, with a mouth hanging on a dark smilebut never smiling, had come quite willingly to the party, and showed awondrous obliviousness of all his antics on the previous night. But thecomely, slender, prettily-dressed prize Fancy Day fell to Dick's lot, inspite of some private machinations of the farmer, for the reason that Mr. Shiner, as a richer man, had shown too much assurance in asking thefavour, whilst Dick had been duly courteous. 

We gain a good view of our heroine as she advances to her place in theladies' line. She belonged to the taller division of middle height. Flexibility was her first characteristic, by which she appeared to enjoythe most easeful rest when she was in gliding motion. Her darkeyes--arched by brows of so keen, slender, and soft a curve, that theyresembled nothing so much as two slurs in music--showed primarily abright sparkle each. This was softened by a frequent thoughtfulness, yetnot so frequent as to do away, for more than a few minutes at a time, with a certain coquettishness; which in its turn was never so decided asto banish honesty. Her lips imitated her brows in their clearly-cutoutline and softness of bend; and her nose was well shaped--which issaying a great deal, when it is remembered that there are a hundredpretty mouths and eyes for one pretty nose. Add to this, plentiful knotsof dark-brown hair, a gauzy dress of white, with blue facings; and theslightest idea may be gained of the young maiden who showed, amidst therest of the dancing-ladies, like a flower among vegetables. And so thedance proceeded. Mr. Shiner, according to the interesting rule laiddown, deserted his own partner, and made off down the middle with thisfair one of Dick's--the pair appearing from the top of the room like twopersons tripping down a lane to be married. Dick trotted behind withwhat was intended to be a look of composure, but which was, in fact, arather silly expression of feature--implying, with too much earnestness, that such an elopement could not be tolerated. Then they turned and cameback, when Dick grew more rigid around his mouth, and blushed withingenuous ardour as he joined hands with the rival and formed the archover his lady's head; which presumably gave the figure its name;relinquishing her again at setting to partners, when Mr. Shiner's newchain quivered in every link, and all the loose flesh upon thetranter--who here came into action again--shook like jelly. Mrs. Penny, being always rather concerned for her personal safety when she dancedwith the tranter, fixed her face to a chronic smile of timidity the wholetime it lasted--a peculiarity which filled her features with wrinkles, and reduced her eyes to little straight lines like hyphens, as she jiggedup and down opposite him; repeating in her own person not only his propermovements, but also the minor flourishes which the richness of thetranter's imagination led him to introduce from time to time--animitation which had about it something of slavish obedience, not unmixedwith fear. 

The ear-rings of the ladies now flung themselves wildly about, turningviolent summersaults, banging this way and that, and then swingingquietly against the ears sustaining them. Mrs. Crumpler--a heavy woman, who, for some reason which nobody ever thought worth inquiry, danced in aclean apron--moved so smoothly through the figure that her feet werenever seen; conveying to imaginative minds the idea that she rolled oncastors. 

Minute after minute glided by, and the party reached the period whenladies' back-hair begins to look forgotten and dissipated; when aperceptible dampness makes itself apparent upon the faces even ofdelicate girls--a ghastly dew having for some time rained from thefeatures of their masculine partners; when skirts begin to be torn out oftheir gathers; when elderly people, who have stood up to please theirjuniors, begin to feel sundry small tremblings in the region of theknees, and to wish the interminable dance was at Jericho; when (atcountry parties of the thorough sort) waistcoats begin to be unbuttoned, and when the fiddlers' chairs have been wriggled, by the frantic bowingof their occupiers, to a distance of about two feet from where theyoriginally stood. 

Fancy was dancing with Mr. Shiner. Dick knew that Fancy, by the law ofgood manners, was bound to dance as pleasantly with one partner as withanother; yet he could not help suggesting to himself that she need nothave put quite so much spirit into her steps, nor smiled quite sofrequently whilst in the farmer's hands. 

"I'm afraid you didn't cast off, " said Dick mildly to Mr. Shiner, beforethe latter man's watch-chain had done vibrating from a recent whirl. 

Fancy made a motion of accepting the correction; but her partner took nonotice, and proceeded with the next movement, with an affectionate bendtowards her. 

"That Shiner's too fond of her, " the young man said to himself as hewatched them. They came to the top again, Fancy smiling warmly towardsher partner, and went to their places. 

"Mr. Shiner, you didn't cast off, " said Dick, for want of something elseto demolish him with; casting off himself, and being put out at thefarmer's irregularity. 

"Perhaps I sha'n't cast off for any man, " said Mr. Shiner. 

"I think you ought to, sir. "

Dick's partner, a young lady of the name of Lizzy--called Lizz forshort--tried to mollify. 

"I can't say that I myself have much feeling for casting off, " she said. 

"Nor I, " said Mrs. Penny, following up the argument, "especially if afriend and neighbour is set against it. Not but that 'tis a terribletasty thing in good hands and well done; yes, indeed, so say I. "

"All I meant was, " said Dick, rather sorry that he had spokencorrectingly to a guest, "that 'tis in the dance; and a man has hardlyany right to hack and mangle what was ordained by the regulardance-maker, who, I daresay, got his living by making 'em, and thought ofnothing else all his life. "

"I don't like casting off: then very well; I cast off for no dance-makerthat ever lived. "

Dick now appeared to be doing mental arithmetic, the act being really aneffort to present to himself, in an abstract form, how far an argumentwith a formidable rival ought to be carried, when that rival was hismother's guest. The dead-lock was put an end to by the stamping arrivalup the middle of the tranter, who, despising minutiae on principle, started a theme of his own. 

"I assure you, neighbours, " he said, "the heat of my frame no tongue cantell!" He looked around and endeavoured to give, by a forcible gaze ofself-sympathy, some faint idea of the truth. 

Mrs. Dewy formed one of the next couple. 

"Yes, " she said, in an auxiliary tone, "Reuben always was such a hotman. "

Mrs. Penny implied the species of sympathy that such a class ofaffliction required, by trying to smile and to look grieved at the sametime. 

"If he only walk round the garden of a Sunday morning, his shirt-collaris as limp as no starch at all, " continued Mrs. Dewy, her countenancelapsing parenthetically into a housewifely expression of concern at thereminiscence. 

"Come, come, you women-folk; 'tis hands across--come, come!" said thetranter; and the conversation ceased for the present. 

CHAPTER VIII: THEY DANCE MORE WILDLY

Dick had at length secured Fancy for that most delightful ofcountry-dances, opening with six-hands-round. 

"Before we begin, " said the tranter, "my proposal is, that 'twould be aright and proper plan for every mortal man in the dance to pull off hisjacket, considering the heat. "

"Such low notions as you have, Reuben! Nothing but strip will go downwith you when you are a-dancing. Such a hot man as he is!"

"Well, now, look here, my sonnies, " he argued to his wife, whom he oftenaddressed in the plural masculine for economy of epithet merely; "I don'tsee that. You dance and get hot as fire; therefore you lighten yourclothes. Isn't that nature and reason for gentle and simple? If I stripby myself and not necessary, 'tis rather pot-housey I own; but if westout chaps strip one and all, why, 'tis the native manners of thecountry, which no man can gainsay? Hey--what did you say, my sonnies?"

"Strip we will!" said the three other heavy men who were in the dance;and their coats were accordingly taken off and hung in the passage, whence the four sufferers from heat soon reappeared, marching in closecolumn, with flapping shirt-sleeves, and having, as common to them all, ageneral glance of being now a match for any man or dancer in England orIreland. Dick, fearing to lose ground in Fancy's good opinion, retainedhis coat like the rest of the thinner men; and Mr. Shiner did the samefrom superior knowledge. 

And now a further phase of revelry had disclosed itself. It was the timeof night when a guest may write his name in the dust upon the tables andchairs, and a bluish mist pervades the atmosphere, becoming a distincthalo round the candles; when people's nostrils, wrinkles, and crevices ingeneral, seem to be getting gradually plastered up; when the veryfiddlers as well as the dancers get red in the face, the dancers havingadvanced further still towards incandescence, and entered the cadaverousphase; the fiddlers no longer sit down, but kick back their chairs andsaw madly at the strings, with legs firmly spread and eyes closed, regardless of the visible world. Again and again did Dick share hisLove's hand with another man, and wheel round; then, more delightfully, promenade in a circle with her all to himself, his arm holding her waistmore firmly each time, and his elbow getting further and further behindher back, till the distance reached was rather noticeable; and, mostblissful, swinging to places shoulder to shoulder, her breath curlinground his neck like a summer zephyr that had strayed from its properdate. Threading the couples one by one they reached the bottom, whenthere arose in Dick's mind a minor misery lest the tune should end beforethey could work their way to the top again, and have anew the sameexciting run down through. Dick's feelings on actually reaching the topin spite of his doubts were supplemented by a mortal fear that thefiddling might even stop at this supreme moment; which prompted him toconvey a stealthy whisper to the far-gone musicians, to the effect thatthey were not to leave off till he and his partner had reached the bottomof the dance once more, which remark was replied to by the nearest ofthose convulsed and quivering men by a private nod to the anxious youngman between two semiquavers of the tune, and a simultaneous "All right, ay, ay, " without opening the eyes. Fancy was now held so closely thatDick and she were practically one person. The room became to Dick like apicture in a dream; all that he could remember of it afterwards being thelook of the fiddlers going to sleep, as humming-tops sleep, by increasingtheir motion and hum, together with the figures of grandfather James andold Simon Crumpler sitting by the chimney-corner, talking and nodding indumb-show, and beating the air to their emphatic sentences like peoplenear a threshing machine. 

The dance ended. "Piph-h-h-h!" said tranter Dewy, blowing out his breathin the very finest stream of vapour that a man's lips could form. "Aregular tightener, that one, sonnies!" He wiped his forehead, and wentto the cider and ale mugs on the table. 

"Well!" said Mrs. Penny, flopping into a chair, "my heart haven't been insuch a thumping state of uproar since I used to sit up on old Midsummer-eves to see who my husband was going to be. "

"And that's getting on for a good few years ago now, from what I've heardyou tell, " said the tranter, without lifting his eyes from the cup he wasfilling. Being now engaged in the business of handing roundrefreshments, he was warranted in keeping his coat off still, though theother heavy men had resumed theirs. 

"And a thing I never expected would come to pass, if you'll believe me, came to pass then, " continued Mrs. Penny. "Ah, the first spirit ever Isee on a Midsummer-eve was a puzzle to me when he appeared, a hardpuzzle, so say I!"

"So I should have fancied, " said Elias Spinks. 

"Yes, " said Mrs. Penny, throwing her glance into past times, and talkingon in a running tone of complacent abstraction, as if a listener were nota necessity. "Yes; never was I in such a taking as on that Midsummer-eve! I sat up, quite determined to see if John Wildway was going tomarry me or no. I put the bread-and-cheese and beer quite ready, as thewitch's book ordered, and I opened the door, and I waited till the clockstruck twelve, my nerves all alive and so strained that I could feelevery one of 'em twitching like bell-wires. Yes, sure! and when theclock had struck, lo and behold, I could see through the door a littlesmall man in the lane wi' a shoemaker's apron on. "

Here Mr. Penny stealthily enlarged himself half an inch. 

"Now, John Wildway, " Mrs. Penny continued, "who courted me at that time, was a shoemaker, you see, but he was a very fair-sized man, and Icouldn't believe that any such a little small man had anything to do wi'me, as anybody might. But on he came, and crossed the threshold--notJohn, but actually the same little small man in the shoemaker's apron--"

"You needn't be so mighty particular about little and small!" said herhusband. 

"In he walks, and down he sits, and O my goodness me, didn't I fleeupstairs, body and soul hardly hanging together! Well, to cut a longstory short, by-long and by-late, John Wildway and I had a miff andparted; and lo and behold, the coming man came! Penny asked me if I'd gosnacks with him, and afore I knew what I was about a'most, the thing wasdone. "

"I've fancied you never knew better in your life; but I mid be mistaken, "said Mr. Penny in a murmur. 

After Mrs. Penny had spoken, there being no new occupation for her eyes, she still let them stay idling on the past scenes just related, whichwere apparently visible to her in the centre of the room. Mr. Penny'sremark received no reply. 

During this discourse the tranter and his wife might have been observedstanding in an unobtrusive corner, in mysterious closeness to each other, a just perceptible current of intelligence passing from each to each, which had apparently no relation whatever to the conversation of theirguests, but much to their sustenance. A conclusion of some kind havingat length been drawn, the palpable confederacy of man and wife was oncemore obliterated, the tranter marching off into the pantry, humming atune that he couldn't quite recollect, and then breaking into the wordsof a song of which he could remember about one line and a quarter. Mrs. Dewy spoke a few words about preparations for a bit of supper. 

That elder portion of the company which loved eating and drinking put ona look to signify that till this moment they had quite forgotten that itwas customary to expect suppers on these occasions; going even furtherthan this politeness of feature, and starting irrelevant subjects, theexceeding flatness and forced tone of which rather betrayed their object. The younger members said they were quite hungry, and that supper would bedelightful though it was so late. 

Good luck attended Dick's love-passes during the meal. He sat nextFancy, and had the thrilling pleasure of using permanently a glass whichhad been taken by Fancy in mistake; of letting the outer edge of the soleof his boot touch the lower verge of her skirt; and to add to thesedelights the cat, which had lain unobserved in her lap for severalminutes, crept across into his own, touching him with fur that hadtouched her hand a moment before. There were, besides, some littlepleasures in the shape of helping her to vegetable she didn't want, andwhen it had nearly alighted on her plate taking it across for his ownuse, on the plea of waste not, want not. He also, from time to time, sipped sweet sly glances at her profile; noticing the set of her head, the curve of her throat, and other artistic properties of the livelygoddess, who the while kept up a rather free, not to say too free, conversation with Mr. Shiner sitting opposite; which, after some uneasycriticism, and much shifting of argument backwards and forwards in Dick'smind, he decided not to consider of alarming significance. 

"A new music greets our ears now, " said Miss Fancy, alluding, with thesharpness that her position as village sharpener demanded, to thecontrast between the rattle of knives and forks and the late notes of thefiddlers. 

"Ay; and I don't know but what 'tis sweeter in tone when you get aboveforty, " said the tranter; "except, in faith, as regards father there. Never such a mortal man as he for tunes. They do move his soul; don't'em, father?"

The eldest Dewy smiled across from his distant chair an assent toReuben's remark. 

"Spaking of being moved in soul, " said Mr. Penny, "I shall never forgetthe first time I heard the 'Dead March. ' 'Twas at poor Corp'l Nineman'sfuneral at Casterbridge. It fairly made my hair creep and fidget aboutlike a vlock of sheep--ah, it did, souls! And when they had done, andthe last trump had sounded, and the guns was fired over the dead hero'sgrave, a' icy-cold drop o' moist sweat hung upon my forehead, and anotherupon my jawbone. Ah, 'tis a very solemn thing!"

"Well, as to father in the corner there, " the tranter said, pointing toold William, who was in the act of filling his mouth; "he'd starve todeath for music's sake now, as much as when he was a boy-chap offifteen. "

"Truly, now, " said Michael Mail, clearing the corner of his throat in themanner of a man who meant to be convincing; "there's a friendly tie ofsome sort between music and eating. " He lifted the cup to his mouth, anddrank himself gradually backwards from a perpendicular position to aslanting one, during which time his looks performed a circuit from thewall opposite him to the ceiling overhead. Then clearing the othercorner of his throat: "Once I was a-setting in the little kitchen of theDree Mariners at Casterbridge, having a bit of dinner, and a brass bandstruck up in the street. Such a beautiful band as that were! I wassetting eating fried liver and lights, I well can mind--ah, I was! and tosave my life, I couldn't help chawing to the tune. Band played six-eighttime; six-eight chaws I, willynilly. Band plays common; common time wentmy teeth among the liver and lights as true as a hair. Beautiful 'twere!Ah, I shall never forget that there band!"

"That's as tuneful a thing as ever I heard of, " said grandfather James, with the absent gaze which accompanies profound criticism. 

"I don't like Michael's tuneful stories then, " said Mrs. Dewy. "They arequite coarse to a person o' decent taste. "

Old Michael's mouth twitched here and there, as if he wanted to smile butdidn't know where to begin, which gradually settled to an expression thatit was not displeasing for a nice woman like the tranter's wife tocorrect him. 

"Well, now, " said Reuben, with decisive earnestness, "that sort o' coarsetouch that's so upsetting to Ann's feelings is to my mind arecommendation; for it do always prove a story to be true. And for thesame reason, I like a story with a bad moral. My sonnies, all truestories have a coarse touch or a bad moral, depend upon't. If the story-tellers could ha' got decency and good morals from true stories, who'dha' troubled to invent parables?" Saying this the tranter arose to fetcha new stock of cider, ale, mead, and home-made wines. 

Mrs. Dewy sighed, and appended a remark (ostensibly behind her husband'sback, though that the words should reach his ears distinctly wasunderstood by both): "Such a man as Dewy is! Nobody do know the troubleI have to keep that man barely respectable. And did you ever heartoo--just now at supper-time--talking about 'taties' with Michael in sucha work-folk way. Well, 'tis what I was never brought up to! With ourfamily 'twas never less than 'taters, ' and very often 'pertatoes'outright; mother was so particular and nice with us girls there was nofamily in the parish that kept them selves up more than we. "

The hour of parting came. Fancy could not remain for the night, becauseshe had engaged a woman to wait up for her. She disappeared temporarilyfrom the flagging party of dancers, and then came downstairs wrapped upand looking altogether a different person from whom she had beenhitherto, in fact (to Dick's sadness and disappointment), a womansomewhat reserved and of a phlegmatic temperament--nothing left in her ofthe romping girl that she had seemed but a short quarter-hour before, whohad not minded the weight of Dick's hand upon her waist, nor shirked thepurlieus of the mistletoe. 

"What a difference!" thought the young man--hoary cynic pro tem. "What amiserable deceiving difference between the manners of a maid's life atdancing times and at others! Look at this lovely Fancy! Through thewhole past evening touchable, squeezeable--even kissable! For whole half-hours I held her so chose to me that not a sheet of paper could have beenshipped between us; and I could feel her heart only just outside my own, her life beating on so close to mine, that I was aware of every breath init. A flit is made upstairs--a hat and a cloak put on--and I no moredare to touch her than--" Thought failed him, and he returned torealities. 

But this was an endurable misery in comparison with what followed. Mr. Shiner and his watch-chain, taking the intrusive advantage that ardentbachelors who are going homeward along the same road as a pretty youngwoman always do take of that circumstance, came forward to assureFancy--with a total disregard of Dick's emotions, and in tones which werecertainly not frigid--that he (Shiner) was not the man to go to bedbefore seeing his Lady Fair safe within her own door--not he, nobodyshould say he was that;--and that he would not leave her side an inchtill the thing was done--drown him if he would. The proposal wasassented to by Miss Day, in Dick's foreboding judgment, with onedegree--or at any rate, an appreciable fraction of a degree--of warmthbeyond that required by a disinterested desire for protection from thedangers of the night. 

All was over; and Dick surveyed the chair she had last occupied, lookingnow like a setting from which the gem has been torn. There stood herglass, and the romantic teaspoonful of elder wine at the bottom that shecouldn't drink by trying ever so hard, in obedience to the mightyarguments of the tranter (his hand coming down upon her shoulder thewhile, like a Nasmyth hammer); but the drinker was there no longer. Therewere the nine or ten pretty little crumbs she had left on her plate; butthe eater was no more seen. 

There seemed a disagreeable closeness of relationship between himself andthe members of his family, now that they were left alone again face toface. His father seemed quite offensive for appearing to be in just ashigh spirits as when the guests were there; and as for grandfather James(who had not yet left), he was quite fiendish in being rather glad theywere gone. 

"Really, " said the tranter, in a tone of placid satisfaction, "I've hadso little time to attend to myself all the evenen, that I mean to enjoy aquiet meal now! A slice of this here ham--neither too fat nor toolean--so; and then a drop of this vinegar and pickles--there, that'sit--and I shall be as fresh as a lark again! And to tell the truth, mysonny, my inside has been as dry as a lime-basket all night. "

"I like a party very well once in a while, " said Mrs. Dewy, leaving offthe adorned tones she had been bound to use throughout the evening, andreturning to the natural marriage voice; "but, Lord, 'tis such a sight ofheavy work next day! What with the dirty plates, and knives and forks, and dust and smother, and bits kicked off your furniture, and I don'tknow what all, why a body could a'most wish there were no such things asChristmases . . . Ah-h dear!" she yawned, till the clock in the cornerhad ticked several beats. She cast her eyes round upon the displaced, dust-laden furniture, and sank down overpowered at the sight. 

"Well, I be getting all right by degrees, thank the Lord for't!" said thetranter cheerfully through a mangled mass of ham and bread, withoutlifting his eyes from his plate, and chopping away with his knife andfork as if he were felling trees. "Ann, you may as well go on to bed atonce, and not bide there making such sleepy faces; you look aslong-favoured as a fiddle, upon my life, Ann. There, you must be weariedout, 'tis true. I'll do the doors and draw up the clock; and you go on, or you'll be as white as a sheet to-morrow. "

"Ay; I don't know whether I shan't or no. " The matron passed her handacross her eyes to brush away the film of sleep till she got upstairs. 

Dick wondered how it was that when people were married they could be soblind to romance; and was quite certain that if he ever took to wife thatdear impossible Fancy, he and she would never be so dreadfully practicaland undemonstrative of the Passion as his father and mother were. Themost extraordinary thing was, that all the fathers and mothers he knewwere just as undemonstrative as his own. 

CHAPTER IX: DICK CALLS AT THE SCHOOL

The early days of the year drew on, and Fancy, having spent the holidayweeks at home, returned again to Mellstock. 

Every spare minute of the week following her return was used by Dick inaccidentally passing the schoolhouse in his journeys about theneighbourhood; but not once did she make herself visible. A handkerchiefbelonging to her had been providentially found by his mother in clearingthe rooms the day after that of the dance; and by much contrivance Dickgot it handed over to him, to leave with her at any time he should benear the school after her return. But he delayed taking the extrememeasure of calling with it lest, had she really no sentiment of interestin him, it might be regarded as a slightly absurd errand, the reasonguessed; and the sense of the ludicrous, which was rather keen in her, dohis dignity considerable injury in her eyes; and what she thought of him, even apart from the question of her loving, was all the world to him now. 

But the hour came when the patience of love at twenty-one could endure nolonger. One Saturday he approached the school with a mild air ofindifference, and had the satisfaction of seeing the object of his questat the further end of her garden, trying, by the aid of a spade andgloves, to root a bramble that had intruded itself there. 

He disguised his feelings from some suspicious-looking cottage-windowsopposite by endeavouring to appear like a man in a great hurry ofbusiness, who wished to leave the handkerchief and have done with suchtrifling errands. 

This endeavour signally failed; for on approaching the gate he found itlocked to keep the children, who were playing 'cross-dadder' in thefront, from running into her private grounds. 

She did not see him; and he could only think of one thing to be done, which was to shout her name. 

"Miss Day!"

The words were uttered with a jerk and a look meant to imply to thecottages opposite that he was now simply one who liked shouting as apleasant way of passing his time, without any reference to persons ingardens. The name died away, and the unconscious Miss Day continueddigging and pulling as before. 

He screwed himself up to enduring the cottage-windows yet more stoically, and shouted again. Fancy took no notice whatever. 

He shouted the third time, with desperate vehemence, turning suddenlyabout and retiring a little distance, as if it were by no means for hisown pleasure that he had come. 

This time she heard him, came down the garden, and entered the school atthe back. Footsteps echoed across the interior, the door opened, andthree-quarters of the blooming young schoolmistress's face and figurestood revealed before him; a slice on her left-hand side being cut off bythe edge of the door. Having surveyed and recognized him, she came tothe gate. 

At sight of him had the pink of her cheeks increased, lessened, or did itcontinue to cover its normal area of ground? It was a question meditatedseveral hundreds of times by her visitor in after-hours--the meditation, after wearying involutions, always ending in one way, that it wasimpossible to say. 

"Your handkerchief: Miss Day: I called with. " He held it outspasmodically and awkwardly. "Mother found it: under a chair. "

"O, thank you very much for bringing it, Mr. Dewy. I couldn't thinkwhere I had dropped it. "

Now Dick, not being an experienced lover--indeed, never before havingbeen engaged in the practice of love-making at all, except in a smallschoolboy way--could not take advantage of the situation; and out camethe blunder, which afterwards cost him so many bitter moments and asleepless night:-

"Good morning, Miss Day. "

"Good morning, Mr. Dewy. "

The gate was closed; she was gone; and Dick was standing outside, unchanged in his condition from what he had been before he called. Ofcourse the Angel was not to blame--a young woman living alone in a housecould not ask him indoors unless she had known him better--he should havekept her outside before floundering into that fatal farewell. He wishedthat before he called he had realized more fully than he did the pleasureof being about to call; and turned away. 

PART THE SECOND--SPRING

CHAPTER I: PASSING BY THE SCHOOL

It followed that, as the spring advanced, Dick walked abroad much morefrequently than had hitherto been usual with him, and was continuallyfinding that his nearest way to or from home lay by the road whichskirted the garden of the school. The first-fruits of his perseverancewere that, on turning the angle on the nineteenth journey by that track, he saw Miss Fancy's figure, clothed in a dark-gray dress, looking from ahigh open window upon the crown of his hat. The friendly greetingresulting from this rencounter was considered so valuable an elixir thatDick passed still oftener; and by the time he had almost trodden a littlepath under the fence where never a path was before, he was rewarded withan actual meeting face to face on the open road before her gate. Thisbrought another meeting, and another, Fancy faintly showing by herbearing that it was a pleasure to her of some kind to see him there; butthe sort of pleasure she derived, whether exultation at the hope herexceeding fairness inspired, or the true feeling which was alone Dick'sconcern, he could not anyhow decide, although he meditated on her everylittle movement for hours after it was made. 

CHAPTER II: A MEETING OF THE QUIRE

It was the evening of a fine spring day. The descending sun appeared asa nebulous blaze of amber light, its outline being lost in cloudy masseshanging round it, like wild locks of hair. 

The chief members of Mellstock parish choir were standing in a group infront of Mr. Penny's workshop in the lower village. They were allbrightly illuminated, and each was backed up by a shadow as long as asteeple; the lowness of the source of light rendering the brims of theirhats of no use at all as a protection to the eyes. 

Mr. Penny's was the last house in that part of the parish, and stood in ahollow by the roadside so that cart-wheels and horses' legs were aboutlevel with the sill of his shop-window. This was low and wide, and wasopen from morning till evening, Mr. Penny himself being invariably seenworking inside, like a framed portrait of a shoemaker by some modernMoroni. He sat facing the road, with a boot on his knees and the awl inhis hand, only looking up for a moment as he stretched out his arms andbent forward at the pull, when his spectacles flashed in the passer'sface with a shine of flat whiteness, and then returned again to the bootas usual. Rows of lasts, small and large, stout and slender, covered thewall which formed the background, in the extreme shadow of which a kindof dummy was seen sitting, in the shape of an apprentice with a stringtied round his hair (probably to keep it out of his eyes). He smiled atremarks that floated in from without, but was never known to answer themin Mr. Penny's presence. Outside the window the upper-leather of aWellington-boot was usually hung, pegged to a board as if to dry. Nosign was over his door; in fact--as with old banks and mercantilehouses--advertising in any shape was scorned, and it would have been feltas beneath his dignity to paint up, for the benefit of strangers, thename of an establishment whose trade came solely by connection based onpersonal respect. 

His visitors now came and stood on the outside of his window, sometimesleaning against the sill, sometimes moving a pace or two backwards andforwards in front of it. They talked with deliberate gesticulations toMr. Penny, enthroned in the shadow of the interior. 

"I do like a man to stick to men who be in the same line o' life--o'Sundays, anyway--that I do so. "

"'Tis like all the doings of folk who don't know what a day's work is, that's what I say. "

"My belief is the man's not to blame; 'tis she--she's the bitter weed!"

"No, not altogether. He's a poor gawk-hammer. Look at his sermonyesterday. "

"His sermon was well enough, a very good guessable sermon, only hecouldn't put it into words and speak it. That's all was the matter wi'the sermon. He hadn't been able to get it past his pen. "

"Well--ay, the sermon might have been good; for, 'tis true, the sermon ofOld Eccl'iastes himself lay in Eccl'iastes's ink-bottle afore he got itout. "

Mr. Penny, being in the act of drawing the last stitch tight, couldafford time to look up and throw in a word at this point. 

"He's no spouter--that must be said, 'a b'lieve. "

"'Tis a terrible muddle sometimes with the man, as far as spout do go, "said Spinks. 

"Well, we'll say nothing about that, " the tranter answered; "for I don'tbelieve 'twill make a penneth o' difference to we poor martels here orhereafter whether his sermons be good or bad, my sonnies. "

Mr. Penny made another hole with his awl, pushed in the thread, andlooked up and spoke again at the extension of arms. 

"'Tis his goings-on, souls, that's what it is. " He clenched his featuresfor an Herculean addition to the ordinary pull, and continued, "The firstthing he done when he came here was to be hot and strong about churchbusiness. "

"True, " said Spinks; "that was the very first thing he done. "

Mr. Penny, having now been offered the ear of the assembly, accepted it, ceased stitching, swallowed an unimportant quantity of air as if it werea pill, and continued:

"The next thing he do do is to think about altering the church, until hefound 'twould be a matter o' cost and what not, and then not to think nomore about it. "

"True: that was the next thing he done. "

"And the next thing was to tell the young chaps that they were not on noaccount to put their hats in the christening font during service. "

"True. "

"And then 'twas this, and then 'twas that, and now 'tis--"

Words were not forcible enough to conclude the sentence, and Mr. Pennygave a huge pull to signify the concluding word. 

"Now 'tis to turn us out of the quire neck and crop, " said the tranterafter an interval of half a minute, not by way of explaining the pauseand pull, which had been quite understood, but as a means of keeping thesubject well before the meeting. 

Mrs. Penny came to the door at this point in the discussion. Like allgood wives, however much she was inclined to play the Tory to herhusband's Whiggism, and vice versa, in times of peace, she coalesced withhim heartily enough in time of war. 

"It must be owned he's not all there, " she replied in a general way tothe fragments of talk she had heard from indoors. "Far below poor Mr. Grinham" (the late vicar). 

"Ay, there was this to be said for he, that you were quite sure he'dnever come mumbudgeting to see ye, just as you were in the middle of yourwork, and put you out with his fuss and trouble about ye. "

"Never. But as for this new Mr. Maybold, though he mid be a very well-intending party in that respect, he's unbearable; for as to sifting yourcinders, scrubbing your floors, or emptying your slops, why, you can't doit. I assure you I've not been able to empt them for several days, unless I throw 'em up the chimley or out of winder; for as sure as thesun you meet him at the door, coming to ask how you are, and 'tis such aconfusing thing to meet a gentleman at the door when ye are in the messo' washing. "

"'Tis only for want of knowing better, poor gentleman, " said the tranter. "His meaning's good enough. Ay, your pa'son comes by fate: 'tis heads ortails, like pitch-halfpenny, and no choosing; so we must take en as heis, my sonnies, and thank God he's no worse, I suppose. "

"I fancy I've seen him look across at Miss Day in a warmer way thanChristianity asked for, " said Mrs. Penny musingly; "but I don't quitelike to say it. "

"O no; there's nothing in that, " said grandfather William. 

"If there's nothing, we shall see nothing, " Mrs. Penny replied, in thetone of a woman who might possibly have private opinions still. 

"Ah, Mr. Grinham was the man!" said Bowman. "Why, he never troubled uswi' a visit from year's end to year's end. You might go anywhere, doanything: you'd be sure never to see him. "

"Yes, he was a right sensible pa'son, " said Michael. "He never enteredour door but once in his life, and that was to tell my poor wife--ay, poor soul, dead and gone now, as we all shall!--that as she was such a'old aged person, and lived so far from the church, he didn't at allexpect her to come any more to the service. "

"And 'a was a very jinerous gentleman about choosing the psalms and hymnso' Sundays. 'Confound ye, ' says he, 'blare and scrape what ye will, butdon't bother me!'"

"And he was a very honourable man in not wanting any of us to come andhear him if we were all on-end for a jaunt or spree, or to bring thebabies to be christened if they were inclined to squalling. There's goodin a man's not putting a parish to unnecessary trouble. "

"And there's this here man never letting us have a bit o' peace; butkeeping on about being good and upright till 'tis carried to such a pitchas I never see the like afore nor since!"

"No sooner had he got here than he found the font wouldn't hold water, asit hadn't for years off and on; and when I told him that Mr. Grinhamnever minded it, but used to spet upon his vinger and christen 'em justas well, 'a said, 'Good Heavens! Send for a workman immediate. Whatplace have I come to!' Which was no compliment to us, come to that. "

"Still, for my part, " said old William, "though he's arrayed against us, I like the hearty borussnorus ways of the new pa'son. "

"You, ready to die for the quire, " said Bowman reproachfully, "to stickup for the quire's enemy, William!"

"Nobody will feel the loss of our church-work so much as I, " said the oldman firmly; "that you d'all know. I've a-been in the quire man and boyever since I was a chiel of eleven. But for all that 'tisn't in me tocall the man a bad man, because I truly and sincerely believe en to be agood young feller. "

Some of the youthful sparkle that used to reside there animated William'seye as he uttered the words, and a certain nobility of aspect was alsoimparted to him by the setting sun, which gave him a Titanic shadow atleast thirty feet in length, stretching away to the east in outlines ofimposing magnitude, his head finally terminating upon the trunk of agrand old oak-tree. 

"Mayble's a hearty feller enough, " the tranter replied, "and will spak toyou be you dirty or be you clane. The first time I met en was in adrong, and though 'a didn't know me no more than the dead, 'a passed thetime of day. 'D'ye do?' he said, says he, nodding his head. 'A fineday. ' Then the second time I met en was full-buff in town street, whenmy breeches were tore into a long strent by getting through a copse ofthorns and brimbles for a short cut home-along; and not wanting todisgrace the man by spaking in that state, I fixed my eye on theweathercock to let en pass me as a stranger. But no: 'How d'ye do, Reuben?' says he, right hearty, and shook my hand. If I'd been dressedin silver spangles from top to toe, the man couldn't have been civiller. "

At this moment Dick was seen coming up the village-street, and theyturned and watched him. 

CHAPTER III: A TURN IN THE DISCUSSION

"I'm afraid Dick's a lost man, " said the tranter. 

"What?--no!" said Mail, implying by his manner that it was a far commonerthing for his ears to report what was not said than that his judgmentshould be at fault. 

"Ay, " said the tranter, still gazing at Dick's unconscious advance. "Idon't at all like what I see! There's too many o' them looks out of thewinder without noticing anything; too much shining of boots; too muchpeeping round corners; too much looking at the clock; telling aboutclever things she did till you be sick of it; and then upon a hint tothat effect a horrible silence about her. I've walked the path once inmy life and know the country, neighbours; and Dick's a lost man!" Thetranter turned a quarter round and smiled a smile of miserable satire atthe setting new moon, which happened to catch his eye. 

The others became far too serious at this announcement to allow them tospeak; and they still regarded Dick in the distance. 

"'Twas his mother's fault, " the tranter continued, "in asking the youngwoman to our party last Christmas. When I eyed the blue frock and lightheels o' the maid, I had my thoughts directly. 'God bless thee, Dicky mysonny, ' I said to myself; 'there's a delusion for thee!'"

"They seemed to be rather distant in manner last Sunday, I thought?" Mailtentatively observed, as became one who was not a member of the family. 

"Ay, that's a part of the zickness. Distance belongs to it, slynessbelongs to it, queerest things on earth belongs to it! There, 'tmay aswell come early as late s'far as I know. The sooner begun, the soonerover; for come it will. "

"The question I ask is, " said Mr. Spinks, connecting into one thread thetwo subjects of discourse, as became a man learned in rhetoric, andbeating with his hand in a way which signified that the manner ratherthan the matter of his speech was to be observed, "how did Mr. Mayboldknow she could play the organ? You know we had it from her own lips, asfar as lips go, that she has never, first or last, breathed such a thingto him; much less that she ever would play. "

In the midst of this puzzle Dick joined the party, and the news which hadcaused such a convulsion among the ancient musicians was unfolded to him. "Well, " he said, blushing at the allusion to Miss Day, "I know by somewords of hers that she has a particular wish not to play, because she isa friend of ours; and how the alteration comes, I don't know. "

"Now, this is my plan, " said the tranter, reviving the spirit of thediscussion by the infusion of new ideas, as was his custom--"this is myplan; if you don't like it, no harm's done. We all know one another verywell, don't we, neighbours?"

That they knew one another very well was received as a statement which, though familiar, should not be omitted in introductory speeches. 

"Then I say this"--and the tranter in his emphasis slapped down his handon Mr. Spinks's shoulder with a momentum of several pounds, upon whichMr. Spinks tried to look not in the least startled--"I say that we allmove down-along straight as a line to Pa'son Mayble's when the clock hasgone six to-morrow night. There we one and all stand in the passage, then one or two of us go in and spak to en, man and man; and say, 'Pa'sonMayble, every tradesman d'like to have his own way in his workshop, andMellstock Church is yours. Instead of turning us out neck and crop, letus stay on till Christmas, and we'll gie way to the young woman, Mr. Mayble, and make no more ado about it. And we shall always be quitewilling to touch our hats when we meet ye, Mr. Mayble, just as before. 'That sounds very well? Hey?"

"Proper well, in faith, Reuben Dewy. "

"And we won't sit down in his house; 'twould be looking too familiar whenonly just reconciled?"

"No need at all to sit down. Just do our duty man and man, turn round, and march out--he'll think all the more of us for it. "

"I hardly think Leaf had better go wi' us?" said Michael, turning to Leafand taking his measure from top to bottom by the eye. "He's so terriblesilly that he might ruin the concern. "

"He don't want to go much; do ye, Thomas Leaf?" said William. 

"Hee-hee! no; I don't want to. Only a teeny bit!"

"I be mortal afeard, Leaf, that you'll never be able to tell how manycuts d'take to sharpen a spar, " said Mail. 

"I never had no head, never! that's how it happened to happen, hee-hee!"

They all assented to this, not with any sense of humiliating Leaf bydisparaging him after an open confession, but because it was an acceptedthing that Leaf didn't in the least mind having no head, that deficiencyof his being an unimpassioned matter of parish history. 

"But I can sing my treble!" continued Thomas Leaf, quite delighted atbeing called a fool in such a friendly way; "I can sing my treble as wellas any maid, or married woman either, and better! And if Jim had lived, I should have had a clever brother! To-morrow is poor Jim's birthday. He'd ha' been twenty-six if he'd lived till to-morrow. "

"You always seem very sorry for Jim, " said old William musingly. 

"Ah! I do. Such a stay to mother as he'd always ha' been! She'd neverhave had to work in her old age if he had continued strong, poor Jim!"

"What was his age when 'a died?"

"Four hours and twenty minutes, poor Jim. 'A was born as might be atnight; and 'a didn't last as might be till the morning. No, 'a didn'tlast. Mother called en Jim on the day that would ha' been hischristening day if he had lived; and she's always thinking about en. Yousee he died so very young. "

"Well, 'twas rather youthful, " said Michael. 

"Now to my mind that woman is very romantical on the matter o' children?"said the tranter, his eye sweeping his audience. 

"Ah, well she mid be, " said Leaf. "She had twelve regular one afteranother, and they all, except myself, died very young; either before theywas born or just afterwards. "

"Pore feller, too. I suppose th'st want to come wi' us?" the trantermurmured. 

"Well, Leaf, you shall come wi' us as yours is such a melancholy family, "said old William rather sadly. 

"I never see such a melancholy family as that afore in my life, " saidReuben. "There's Leaf's mother, poor woman! Every morning I see hereyes mooning out through the panes of glass like a pot-sickwinder-flower; and as Leaf sings a very high treble, and we don't knowwhat we should do without en for upper G, we'll let en come as a trate, poor feller. "

"Ay, we'll let en come, 'a b'lieve, " said Mr. Penny, looking up, as thepull happened to be at that moment. 

"Now, " continued the tranter, dispersing by a new tone of voice thesedigressions about Leaf; "as to going to see the pa'son, one of us mightcall and ask en his meaning, and 'twould be just as well done; but itwill add a bit of flourish to the cause if the quire waits on him as abody. Then the great thing to mind is, not for any of our fellers to benervous; so before starting we'll one and all come to my house and have arasher of bacon; then every man-jack het a pint of cider into his inside;then we'll warm up an extra drop wi' some mead and a bit of ginger; everyone take a thimbleful--just a glimmer of a drop, mind ye, no more, tofinish off his inner man--and march off to Pa'son Mayble. Why, sonnies, a man's not himself till he is fortified wi' a bit and a drop? We shallbe able to look any gentleman in the face then without shrink or shame. "

Mail recovered from a deep meditation and downward glance into the earthin time to give a cordial approval to this line of action, and themeeting adjourned. 

CHAPTER IV: THE INTERVIEW WITH THE VICAR

At six o'clock the next day, the whole body of men in the choir emergedfrom the tranter's door, and advanced with a firm step down the lane. This dignity of march gradually became obliterated as they went on, andby the time they reached the hill behind the vicarage a faint resemblanceto a flock of sheep might have been discerned in the venerable party. Aword from the tranter, however, set them right again; and as theydescended the hill, the regular tramp, tramp, tramp of the united feetwas clearly audible from the vicarage garden. At the opening of the gatethere was another short interval of irregular shuffling, caused by arather peculiar habit the gate had, when swung open quickly, of strikingagainst the bank and slamming back into the opener's face. 

"Now keep step again, will ye?" said the tranter. "It looks better, andmore becomes the high class of arrant which has brought us here. " Thusthey advanced to the door. 

At Reuben's ring the more modest of the group turned aside, adjustedtheir hats, and looked critically at any shrub that happened to lie inthe line of vision; endeavouring thus to give a person who chanced tolook out of the windows the impression that their request, whatever itwas going to be, was rather a casual thought occurring whilst they wereinspecting the vicar's shrubbery and grass-plot than a predeterminedthing. The tranter, who, coming frequently to the vicarage with luggage, coals, firewood, etc. , had none of the awe for its precincts that filledthe breasts of most of the others, fixed his eyes firmly on the knockerduring this interval of waiting. The knocker having no characteristicworthy of notice, he relinquished it for a knot in one of thedoor-panels, and studied the winding lines of the grain. 

"O, sir, please, here's Tranter Dewy, and old William Dewy, and youngRichard Dewy, O, and all the quire too, sir, except the boys, a-come tosee you!" said Mr. Maybold's maid-servant to Mr. Maybold, the pupils ofher eyes dilating like circles in a pond. 

"All the choir?" said the astonished vicar (who may be shortly describedas a good-looking young man with courageous eyes, timid mouth, andneutral nose), abandoning his writing and looking at his parlour-maidafter speaking, like a man who fancied he had seen her face before butcouldn't recollect where. 

"And they looks very firm, and Tranter Dewy do turn neither to the righthand nor to the left, but stares quite straight and solemn with his mindmade up!"

"O, all the choir, " repeated the vicar to himself, trying by that simpledevice to trot out his thoughts on what the choir could come for. 

"Yes; every man-jack of 'em, as I be alive!" (The parlour-maid wasrather local in manner, having in fact been raised in the same village. )"Really, sir, 'tis thoughted by many in town and country that--"

"Town and country!--Heavens, I had no idea that I was public property inthis way!" said the vicar, his face acquiring a hue somewhere betweenthat of the rose and the peony. "Well, 'It is thought in town andcountry that--'"

"It is thought that you be going to get it hot and strong!--excusen myincivility, sir. "

The vicar suddenly recalled to his recollection that he had long agosettled it to be decidedly a mistake to encourage his servant Jane ingiving personal opinions. The servant Jane saw by the vicar's face thathe recalled this fact to his mind; and removing her forehead from theedge of the door, and rubbing away the indent that edge had made, vanished into the passage as Mr. Maybold remarked, "Show them in, Jane. "

A few minutes later a shuffling and jostling (reduced to as refined aform as was compatible with the nature of shuffles and jostles) was heardin the passage; then an earnest and prolonged wiping of shoes, conveyingthe notion that volumes of mud had to be removed; but the roads being soclean that not a particle of dirt appeared on the choir's boots (those ofall the elder members being newly oiled, and Dick's brightly polished), this wiping might have been set down simply as a desire to show thatrespectable men had no wish to take a mean advantage of clean roads forcurtailing proper ceremonies. Next there came a powerful whisper fromthe same quarter:-

"Now stand stock-still there, my sonnies, one and all! And don't make nonoise; and keep your backs close to the wall, that company may pass inand out easy if they want to without squeezing through ye: and we two areenough to go in. " . . . The voice was the tranter's. 

"I wish I could go in too and see the sight!" said a reedy voice--that ofLeaf. 

"'Tis a pity Leaf is so terrible silly, or else he might, " said another. 

"I never in my life seed a quire go into a study to have it out about theplaying and singing, " pleaded Leaf; "and I should like to see it justonce!"

"Very well; we'll let en come in, " said the tranter. "You'll be likechips in porridge, {1} Leaf--neither good nor hurt. All right, my sonny, come along;" and immediately himself, old William, and Leaf appeared inthe room. 

"We took the liberty to come and see 'ee, sir, " said Reuben, letting hishat hang in his left hand, and touching with his right the brim of animaginary one on his head. "We've come to see 'ee, sir, man and man, andno offence, I hope?"

"None at all, " said Mr. Maybold. 

"This old aged man standing by my side is father; William Dewy by name, sir. "

"Yes; I see it is, " said the vicar, nodding aside to old William, whosmiled. 

"I thought you mightn't know en without his bass-viol, " the tranterapologized. "You see, he always wears his best clothes and his bass-viola-Sundays, and it do make such a difference in a' old man's look. "

"And who's that young man?" the vicar said. 

"Tell the pa'son yer name, " said the tranter, turning to Leaf, who stoodwith his elbows nailed back to a bookcase. 

"Please, Thomas Leaf, your holiness!" said Leaf, trembling. 

"I hope you'll excuse his looks being so very thin, " continued thetranter deprecatingly, turning to the vicar again. "But 'tisn't hisfault, poor feller. He's rather silly by nature, and could never getfat; though he's a' excellent treble, and so we keep him on. "

"I never had no head, sir, " said Leaf, eagerly grasping at thisopportunity for being forgiven his existence. 

"Ah, poor young man!" said Mr. Maybold. 

"Bless you, he don't mind it a bit, if you don't, sir, " said the tranterassuringly. "Do ye, Leaf?"

"Not I--not a morsel--hee, hee! I was afeard it mightn't please yourholiness, sir, that's all. "

The tranter, finding Leaf get on so very well through his negativequalities, was tempted in a fit of generosity to advance him stillhigher, by giving him credit for positive ones. "He's very clever for asilly chap, good-now, sir. You never knowed a young feller keep hissmock-frocks so clane; very honest too. His ghastly looks is all thereis against en, poor feller; but we can't help our looks, you know, sir. "

"True: we cannot. You live with your mother, I think, Leaf?"

The tranter looked at Leaf to express that the most friendly assistant tohis tongue could do no more for him now, and that he must be left to hisown resources. 

"Yes, sir: a widder, sir. Ah, if brother Jim had lived she'd have had aclever son to keep her without work!"

"Indeed! poor woman. Give her this half-crown. I'll call and see yourmother. "

"Say, 'Thank you, sir, '" the tranter whispered imperatively towards Leaf. 

"Thank you, sir!" said Leaf. 

"That's it, then; sit down, Leaf, " said Mr. Maybold. 

"Y-yes, sir!"

The tranter cleared his throat after this accidental parenthesis aboutLeaf, rectified his bodily position, and began his speech. 

"Mr. Mayble, " he said, "I hope you'll excuse my common way, but I alwayslike to look things in the face. "

Reuben made a point of fixing this sentence in the vicar's mind by gazinghard at him at the conclusion of it, and then out of the window. 

Mr. Maybold and old William looked in the same direction, apparentlyunder the impression that the things' faces alluded to were therevisible. 

"What I have been thinking"--the tranter implied by this use of the pasttense that he was hardly so discourteous as to be positively thinking itthen--"is that the quire ought to be gie'd a little time, and not doneaway wi' till Christmas, as a fair thing between man and man. And, Mr. Mayble, I hope you'll excuse my common way?"

"I will, I will. Till Christmas, " the vicar murmured, stretching the twowords to a great length, as if the distance to Christmas might bemeasured in that way. "Well, I want you all to understand that I have nopersonal fault to find, and that I don't wish to change the church musicby forcible means, or in a way which should hurt the feelings of anyparishioners. Why I have at last spoken definitely on the subject isthat a player has been brought under--I may say pressed upon--my noticeseveral times by one of the churchwardens. And as the organ I broughtwith me is here waiting" (pointing to a cabinet-organ standing in thestudy), "there is no reason for longer delay. "

"We made a mistake I suppose then, sir? But we understood the youngwoman didn't want to play particularly?" The tranter arranged hiscountenance to signify that he did not want to be inquisitive in theleast. 

"No, nor did she. Nor did I definitely wish her to just yet; for yourplaying is very good. But, as I said, one of the churchwardens has beenso anxious for a change, that, as matters stand, I couldn't consistentlyrefuse my consent. "

Now for some reason or other, the vicar at this point seemed to have anidea that he had prevaricated; and as an honest vicar, it was a thing hedetermined not to do. He corrected himself, blushing as he did so, though why he should blush was not known to Reuben. 

"Understand me rightly, " he said: "the church-warden proposed it to me, but I had thought myself of getting--Miss Day to play. "

"Which churchwarden might that be who proposed her, sir?--excusing mycommon way. " The tranter intimated by his tone that, so far from beinginquisitive, he did not even wish to ask a single question. 

"Mr. Shiner, I believe. "

"Clk, my sonny!--beg your pardon, sir, that's only a form of words ofmine, and slipped out accidental--he nourishes enmity against us for somereason or another; perhaps because we played rather hard upon enChristmas night. Anyhow 'tis certain sure that Mr. Shiner's real lovefor music of a particular kind isn't his reason. He've no more ear thanthat chair. But let that be. "

"I don't think you should conclude that, because Mr. Shiner wants adifferent music, he has any ill-feeling for you. I myself, I must own, prefer organ-music to any other. I consider it most proper, and feeljustified in endeavouring to introduce it; but then, although other musicis better, I don't say yours is not good. "

"Well then, Mr. Mayble, since death's to be, we'll die like men any dayyou name (excusing my common way). "

Mr. Maybold bowed his head. 

"All we thought was, that for us old ancient singers to be choked offquiet at no time in particular, as now, in the Sundays after Easter, would seem rather mean in the eyes of other parishes, sir. But if wefell glorious with a bit of a flourish at Christmas, we should have arespectable end, and not dwindle away at some nameless paltrysecond-Sunday-after or Sunday-next-before something, that's got no nameof his own. "

"Yes, yes, that's reasonable; I own it's reasonable. "

"You see, Mr. Mayble, we've got--do I keep you inconvenient long, sir?"

"No, no. "

"We've got our feelings--father there especially. "

The tranter, in his earnestness, had advanced his person to within sixinches of the vicar's. 

"Certainly, certainly!" said Mr. Maybold, retreating a little forconvenience of seeing. "You are all enthusiastic on the subject, and Iam all the more gratified to find you so. A Laodicean lukewarmness isworse than wrongheadedness itself. "

"Exactly, sir. In fact now, Mr. Mayble, " Reuben continued, moreimpressively, and advancing a little closer still to the vicar, "fatherthere is a perfect figure o' wonder, in the way of being fond of music!"

The vicar drew back a little further, the tranter suddenly also standingback a foot or two, to throw open the view of his father, and pointing tohim at the same time. 

Old William moved uneasily in the large chair, and with a minute smile onthe mere edge of his lips, for good-manners, said he was indeed very fondof tunes. 

"Now, you see exactly how it is, " Reuben continued, appealing to Mr. Maybold's sense of justice by looking sideways into his eyes. The vicarseemed to see how it was so well that the gratified tranter walked up tohim again with even vehement eagerness, so that his waistcoat-buttonsalmost rubbed against the vicar's as he continued: "As to father, if youor I, or any man or woman of the present generation, at the time music isa-playing, was to shake your fist in father's face, as may be this way, and say, 'Don't you be delighted with that music!'"--the tranter wentback to where Leaf was sitting, and held his fist so close to Leaf's facethat the latter pressed his head back against the wall: "All right, Leaf, my sonny, I won't hurt you; 'tis just to show my meaning to Mr. Mayble. --As I was saying, if you or I, or any man, was to shake your fistin father's face this way, and say, 'William, your life or your music!'he'd say, 'My life!' Now that's father's nature all over; and you see, sir, it must hurt the feelings of a man of that kind for him and his bass-viol to be done away wi' neck and crop. "

The tranter went back to the vicar's front and again looked earnestly athis face. 

"True, true, Dewy, " Mr. Maybold answered, trying to withdraw his head andshoulders without moving his feet; but finding this impracticable, edgingback another inch. These frequent retreats had at last jammed Mr. Maybold between his easy-chair and the edge of the table. 

And at the moment of the announcement of the choir, Mr. Maybold had justre-dipped the pen he was using; at their entry, instead of wiping it, hehad laid it on the table with the nib overhanging. At the last retreathis coat-tails came in contact with the pen, and down it rolled, firstagainst the back of the chair, thence turning a summersault into theseat, thence falling to the floor with a rattle. 

The vicar stooped for his pen, and the tranter, wishing to show that, however great their ecclesiastical differences, his mind was not so smallas to let this affect his social feelings, stooped also. 

"And have you anything else you want to explain to me, Dewy?" said Mr. Maybold from under the table. 

"Nothing, sir. And, Mr. Mayble, you be not offended? I hope you see ourdesire is reason?" said the tranter from under the chair. 

"Quite, quite; and I shouldn't think of refusing to listen to such areasonable request, " the vicar replied. Seeing that Reuben had securedthe pen, he resumed his vertical position, and added, "You know, Dewy, itis often said how difficult a matter it is to act up to our convictionsand please all parties. It may be said with equal truth, that it isdifficult for a man of any appreciativeness to have convictions at all. Now in my case, I see right in you, and right in Shiner. I see thatviolins are good, and that an organ is good; and when we introduce theorgan, it will not be that fiddles were bad, but that an organ wasbetter. That you'll clearly understand, Dewy?"

"I will; and thank you very much for such feelings, sir. Piph-h-h-h! Howthe blood do get into my head, to be sure, whenever I quat down likethat!" said Reuben, who having also risen to his feet stuck the penvertically in the inkstand and almost through the bottom, that it mightnot roll down again under any circumstances whatever. 

Now the ancient body of minstrels in the passage felt their curiositysurging higher and higher as the minutes passed. Dick, not having muchaffection for this errand, soon grew tired, and went away in thedirection of the school. Yet their sense of propriety would probablyhave restrained them from any attempt to discover what was going on inthe study had not the vicar's pen fallen to the floor. The convictionthat the movement of chairs, etc. , necessitated by the search, could onlyhave been caused by the catastrophe of a bloody fight beginning, overpowered all other considerations; and they advanced to the door, which had only just fallen to. Thus, when Mr. Maybold raised his eyesafter the stooping he beheld glaring through the door Mr. Penny in full-length portraiture, Mail's face and shoulders above Mr. Penny's head, Spinks's forehead and eyes over Mail's crown, and a fractional part ofBowman's countenance under Spinks's arm--crescent-shaped portions ofother heads and faces being visible behind these--the whole dozen and oddeyes bristling with eager inquiry. 

Mr. Penny, as is the case with excitable boot-makers and men, seeing thevicar look at him and hearing no word spoken, thought it incumbent uponhimself to say something of any kind. Nothing suggested itself till hehad looked for about half a minute at the vicar. 

"You'll excuse my naming of it, sir, " he said, regarding with muchcommiseration the mere surface of the vicar's face; "but perhaps youdon't know that your chin have bust out a-bleeding where you cut yourselfa-shaving this morning, sir. "

"Now, that was the stooping, depend upon't, " the tranter suggested, alsolooking with much interest at the vicar's chin. "Blood always will bustout again if you hang down the member that's been bleeding. "

Old William raised his eyes and watched the vicar's bleeding chinlikewise; and Leaf advanced two or three paces from the bookcase, absorbed in the contemplation of the same phenomenon, with parted lipsand delighted eyes. 

"Dear me, dear me!" said Mr. Maybold hastily, looking very red, andbrushing his chin with his hand, then taking out his handkerchief andwiping the place. 

"That's it, sir; all right again now, 'a b'lieve--a mere nothing, " saidMr. Penny. "A little bit of fur off your hat will stop it in a minute ifit should bust out again. "

"I'll let 'ee have a bit off mine, " said Reuben, to show his goodfeeling; "my hat isn't so new as yours, sir, and 'twon't hurt mine abit. "

"No, no; thank you, thank you, " Mr. Maybold again nervously replied. 

"'Twas rather a deep cut seemingly?" said Reuben, feeling these to be thekindest and best remarks he could make. 

"O, no; not particularly. "

"Well, sir, your hand will shake sometimes a-shaving, and just when itcomes into your head that you may cut yourself, there's the blood. "

"I have been revolving in my mind that question of the time at which wemake the change, " said Mr. Maybold, "and I know you'll meet me half-way. I think Christmas-day as much too late for me as the present time is tooearly for you. I suggest Michaelmas or thereabout as a convenient timefor both parties; for I think your objection to a Sunday which has noname is not one of any real weight. "

"Very good, sir. I suppose mortal men mustn't expect their own wayentirely; and I express in all our names that we'll make shift and besatisfied with what you say. " The tranter touched the brim of hisimaginary hat again, and all the choir did the same. "About Michaelmas, then, as far as you are concerned, sir, and then we make room for thenext generation. "

"About Michaelmas, " said the vicar. 

CHAPTER V: RETURNING HOME WARD

"'A took it very well, then?" said Mail, as they all walked up the hill. 

"He behaved like a man, 'a did so, " said the tranter. "And I'm gladwe've let en know our minds. And though, beyond that, we ha'n't got muchby going, 'twas worth while. He won't forget it. Yes, he took it verywell. Supposing this tree here was Pa'son Mayble, and I standing here, and thik gr't stone is father sitting in the easy-chair. 'Dewy, ' sayshe, 'I don't wish to change the church music in a forcible way. '"

"That was very nice o' the man, even though words be wind. "

"Proper nice--out and out nice. The fact is, " said Reubenconfidentially, "'tis how you take a man. Everybody must be managed. Queens must be managed: kings must be managed; for men want managingalmost as much as women, and that's saying a good deal. "

"'Tis truly!" murmured the husbands. 

"Pa'son Mayble and I were as good friends all through it as if we'd beensworn brothers. Ay, the man's well enough; 'tis what's put in his headthat spoils him, and that's why we've got to go. "

"There's really no believing half you hear about people nowadays. "

"Bless ye, my sonnies! 'tisn't the pa'son's move at all. That gentlemanover there" (the tranter nodded in the direction of Shiner's farm) "is atthe root of the mischty. "

"What! Shiner?"

"Ay; and I see what the pa'son don't see. Why, Shiner is for puttingforward that young woman that only last night I was saying was our Dick'ssweet-heart, but I suppose can't be, and making much of her in the sightof the congregation, and thinking he'll win her by showing her off. Well, perhaps 'a woll. "

"Then the music is second to the woman, the other churchwarden is secondto Shiner, the pa'son is second to the churchwardens, and God A'mighty isnowhere at all. "

"That's true; and you see, " continued Reuben, "at the very beginning itput me in a stud as to how to quarrel wi' en. In short, to save my soul, I couldn't quarrel wi' such a civil man without belying my conscience. Says he to father there, in a voice as quiet as a lamb's, 'William, youare a' old aged man, as all shall be, so sit down in my easy-chair, andrest yourself. ' And down father zot. I could fain ha' laughed at thee, father; for thou'st take it so unconcerned at first, and then looked sofrightened when the chair-bottom sunk in. "

"You see, " said old William, hastening to explain, "I was scared to findthe bottom gie way--what should I know o' spring bottoms?--and thought Ihad broke it down: and of course as to breaking down a man's chair, Ididn't wish any such thing. "

"And, neighbours, when a feller, ever so much up for a miff, d'see hisown father sitting in his enemy's easy-chair, and a poor chap like Leafmade the best of, as if he almost had brains--why, it knocks all the windout of his sail at once: it did out of mine. "

"If that young figure of fun--Fance Day, I mean, " said Bowman, "hadn'tbeen so mighty forward wi' showing herself off to Shiner and Dick and therest, 'tis my belief we should never ha' left the gallery. "

"'Tis my belief that though Shiner fired the bullets, the parson made'em, " said Mr. Penny. "My wife sticks to it that he's in love wi' her. "

"That's a thing we shall never know. I can't onriddle her, nohow. "

"Thou'st ought to be able to onriddle such a little chiel as she, " thetranter observed. 

"The littler the maid, the bigger the riddle, to my mind. And coming ofsuch a stock, too, she may well be a twister. "

"Yes; Geoffrey Day is a clever man if ever there was one. Never saysanything: not he. "

"Never. "

"You might live wi' that man, my sonnies, a hundred years, and never knowthere was anything in him. "

"Ay; one o' these up-country London ink-bottle chaps would call Geoffreya fool. "

"Ye never find out what's in that man: never, " said Spinks. "Close? ah, he is close! He can hold his tongue well. That man's dumbness iswonderful to listen to. "

"There's so much sense in it. Every moment of it is brimmen over wi'sound understanding. "

"'A can hold his tongue very clever--very clever truly, " echoed Leaf. "'Ado look at me as if 'a could see my thoughts running round like the worksof a clock. "

"Well, all will agree that the man can halt well in his talk, be it along time or be it a short time. And though we can't expect his daughterto inherit his closeness, she may have a few dribblets from his sense. "

"And his pocket, perhaps. "

"Yes; the nine hundred pound that everybody says he's worth; but I callit four hundred and fifty; for I never believe more than half I hear. "

"Well, he've made a pound or two, and I suppose the maid will have it, since there's nobody else. But 'tis rather sharp upon her, if she's beenborn to fortune, to bring her up as if not born for it, and letting herwork so hard. "

"'Tis all upon his principle. A long-headed feller!"

"Ah, " murmured Spinks, "'twould be sharper upon her if she were born forfortune, and not to it! I suffer from that affliction. "

CHAPTER VI: YALBURY WOOD AND THE KEEPER'S HOUSE

A mood of blitheness rarely experienced even by young men was Dick's onthe following Monday morning. It was the week after the Easter holidays, and he was journeying along with Smart the mare and the lightspring-cart, watching the damp slopes of the hill-sides as they streamedin the warmth of the sun, which at this unsettled season shone on thegrass with the freshness of an occasional inspector rather than as anaccustomed proprietor. His errand was to fetch Fancy, and someadditional household goods, from her father's house in the neighbouringparish to her dwelling at Mellstock. The distant view was darkly shadedwith clouds; but the nearer parts of the landscape were whitely illuminedby the visible rays of the sun streaming down across the heavy gray shadebehind. 

The tranter had not yet told his son of the state of Shiner's heart thathad been suggested to him by Shiner's movements. He preferred to letsuch delicate affairs right themselves; experience having taught him thatthe uncertain phenomenon of love, as it existed in other people, was nota groundwork upon which a single action of his own life could be founded. 

Geoffrey Day lived in the depths of Yalbury Wood, which formed portion ofone of the outlying estates of the Earl of Wessex, to whom Day was headgame-keeper, timber-steward, and general overlooker for this district. The wood was intersected by the highway from Casterbridge to London at aplace not far from the house, and some trees had of late years beenfelled between its windows and the ascent of Yalbury Hill, to give thesolitary cottager a glimpse of the passers-by. 

It was a satisfaction to walk into the keeper's house, even as astranger, on a fine spring morning like the present. A curl ofwood-smoke came from the chimney, and drooped over the roof like a bluefeather in a lady's hat; and the sun shone obliquely upon the patch ofgrass in front, which reflected its brightness through the open doorwayand up the staircase opposite, lighting up each riser with a shiny greenradiance, and leaving the top of each step in shade. 

The window-sill of the front room was between four and five feet from thefloor, dropping inwardly to a broad low bench, over which, as well asover the whole surface of the wall beneath, there always hung a deepshade, which was considered objectionable on every ground save one, namely, that the perpetual sprinkling of seeds and water by the cagedcanary above was not noticed as an eyesore by visitors. The window wasset with thickly-leaded diamond glazing, formed, especially in the lowerpanes, of knotty glass of various shades of green. Nothing was betterknown to Fancy than the extravagant manner in which these circular knotsor eyes distorted everything seen through them from the outside--liftinghats from heads, shoulders from bodies; scattering the spokes of cart-wheels, and bending the straight fir-trunks into semicircles. Theceiling was carried by a beam traversing its midst, from the side ofwhich projected a large nail, used solely and constantly as a peg forGeoffrey's hat; the nail was arched by a rainbow-shaped stain, imprintedby the brim of the said hat when it was hung there dripping wet. 

The most striking point about the room was the furniture. This was arepetition upon inanimate objects of the old principle introduced byNoah, consisting for the most part of two articles of every sort. Theduplicate system of furnishing owed its existence to the forethought ofFancy's mother, exercised from the date of Fancy's birthday onwards. Thearrangement spoke for itself: nobody who knew the tone of the householdcould look at the goods without being aware that the second set was aprovision for Fancy, when she should marry and have a house of her own. The most noticeable instance was a pair of green-faced eight-day clocks, ticking alternately, which were severally two and half minutes and threeminutes striking the hour of twelve, one proclaiming, in Italianflourishes, Thomas Wood as the name of its maker, and the other--archedat the top, and altogether of more cynical appearance--that of EzekielSaunders. They were two departed clockmakers of Casterbridge, whosedesperate rivalry throughout their lives was nowhere more emphaticallyperpetuated than here at Geoffrey's. These chief specimens of themarriage provision were supported on the right by a couple of kitchendressers, each fitted complete with their cups, dishes, and plates, intheir turn followed by two dumb-waiters, two family Bibles, two warming-pans, and two intermixed sets of chairs. 

But the position last reached--the chimney-corner--was, after all, themost attractive side of the parallelogram. It was large enough to admit, in addition to Geoffrey himself, Geoffrey's wife, her chair, and her work-table, entirely within the line of the mantel, without danger or eveninconvenience from the heat of the fire; and was spacious enough overheadto allow of the insertion of wood poles for the hanging of bacon, whichwere cloaked with long shreds of soot, floating on the draught like thetattered banners on the walls of ancient aisles. 

These points were common to most chimney corners of the neighbourhood;but one feature there was which made Geoffrey's fireside not only anobject of interest to casual aristocratic visitors--to whom every cottagefireside was more or less a curiosity--but the admiration of friends whowere accustomed to fireplaces of the ordinary hamlet model. Thispeculiarity was a little window in the chimney-back, almost over thefire, around which the smoke crept caressingly when it left theperpendicular course. The window-board was curiously stamped with blackcircles, burnt thereon by the heated bottoms of drinking-cups, which hadrested there after previously standing on the hot ashes of the hearth forthe purpose of warming their contents, the result giving to the ledge thelook of an envelope which has passed through innumerable post-offices. 

Fancy was gliding about the room preparing dinner, her head inclining nowto the right, now to the left, and singing the tips and ends of tunesthat sprang up in her mind like mushrooms. The footsteps of Mrs. Daycould be heard in the room overhead. Fancy went finally to the door. 

"Father! Dinner. "

A tall spare figure was seen advancing by the window with periodicalsteps, and the keeper entered from the garden. He appeared to be a manwho was always looking down, as if trying to recollect something he saidyesterday. The surface of his face was fissured rather than wrinkled, and over and under his eyes were folds which seemed as a kind of exterioreyelids. His nose had been thrown backwards by a blow in a poachingfray, so that when the sun was low and shining in his face, people couldsee far into his head. There was in him a quiet grimness, which would inhis moments of displeasure have become surliness, had it not beentempered by honesty of soul, and which was often wrongheadedness becausenot allied with subtlety. 

Although not an extraordinarily taciturn man among friends slightlyricher than himself, he never wasted words upon outsiders, and to histrapper Enoch his ideas were seldom conveyed by any other means than nodsand shakes of the head. Their long acquaintance with each other's ways, and the nature of their labours, rendered words between them almostsuperfluous as vehicles of thought, whilst the coincidence of theirhorizons, and the astonishing equality of their social views, bystartling the keeper from time to time as very damaging to the theory ofmaster and man, strictly forbade any indulgence in words as courtesies. 

Behind the keeper came Enoch (who had been assisting in the garden) atthe well-considered chronological distance of three minutes--an intervalof non-appearance on the trapper's part not arrived at without somereflection. Four minutes had been found to express indifference toindoor arrangements, and simultaneousness had implied too great ananxiety about meals. 

"A little earlier than usual, Fancy, " the keeper said, as he sat down andlooked at the clocks. "That Ezekiel Saunders o' thine is tearing onafore Thomas Wood again. "

"I kept in the middle between them, " said Fancy, also looking at the twoclocks. 

"Better stick to Thomas, " said her father. "There's a healthy beat inThomas that would lead a man to swear by en offhand. He is as true asthe town time. How is it your stap-mother isn't here?"

As Fancy was about to reply, the rattle of wheels was heard, and "Weh-hey, Smart!" in Mr. Richard Dewy's voice rolled into the cottage fromround the corner of the house. 

"Hullo! there's Dewy's cart come for thee, Fancy--Dick driving--aforetime, too. Well, ask the lad to have pot-luck with us. "

Dick on entering made a point of implying by his general bearing that hetook an interest in Fancy simply as in one of the same race and countryas himself; and they all sat down. Dick could have wished her manner hadnot been so entirely free from all apparent consciousness of thoseaccidental meetings of theirs: but he let the thought pass. Enoch satdiagonally at a table afar off, under the corner cupboard, and drank hiscider from a long perpendicular pint cup, having tall fir-trees done inbrown on its sides. He threw occasional remarks into the general tide ofconversation, and with this advantage to himself, that he participated inthe pleasures of a talk (slight as it was) at meal-times, withoutsaddling himself with the responsibility of sustaining it. 

"Why don't your stap-mother come down, Fancy?" said Geoffrey. "You'llexcuse her, Mister Dick, she's a little queer sometimes. "

"O yes, --quite, " said Richard, as if he were in the habit of excusingpeople every day. 

"She d'belong to that class of womankind that become second wives: a rumclass rather. "

"Indeed, " said Dick, with sympathy for an indefinite something. 

"Yes; and 'tis trying to a female, especially if you've been a firstwife, as she hev. "

"Very trying it must be. "

"Yes: you see her first husband was a young man, who let her go too far;in fact, she used to kick up Bob's-a-dying at the least thing in theworld. And when I'd married her and found it out, I thought, thinks I, ''Tis too late now to begin to cure 'e;' and so I let her bide. Butshe's queer, --very queer, at times!"

"I'm sorry to hear that. "

"Yes: there; wives be such a provoking class o' society, because thoughthey be never right, they be never more than half wrong. "

Fancy seemed uneasy under the infliction of this household moralizing, which might tend to damage the airy-fairy nature that Dick, as maidenshrewdness told her, had accredited her with. Her dead silence impressedGeoffrey with the notion that something in his words did not agree withher educated ideas, and he changed the conversation. 

"Did Fred Shiner send the cask o' drink, Fancy?"

"I think he did: O yes, he did. "

"Nice solid feller, Fred Shiner!" said Geoffrey to Dick as he helpedhimself to gravy, bringing the spoon round to his plate by way of thepotato-dish, to obviate a stain on the cloth in the event of a spill. 

Now Geoffrey's eyes had been fixed upon his plate for the previous fouror five minutes, and in removing them he had only carried them to thespoon, which, from its fulness and the distance of its transit, necessitated a steady watching through the whole of the route. Just asintently as the keeper's eyes had been fixed on the spoon, Fancy's hadbeen fixed on her father's, without premeditation or the slightest phaseof furtiveness; but there they were fastened. This was the reason why:

Dick was sitting next to her on the right side, and on the side of thetable opposite to her father. Fancy had laid her right hand lightly downupon the table-cloth for an instant, and to her alarm Dick, afterdropping his fork and brushing his forehead as a reason, flung down hisown left hand, overlapping a third of Fancy's with it, and keeping itthere. So the innocent Fancy, instead of pulling her hand from the trap, settled her eyes on her father's, to guard against his discovery of thisperilous game of Dick's. Dick finished his mouthful; Fancy finished hercrumb, and nothing was done beyond watching Geoffrey's eyes. Then thehands slid apart; Fancy's going over six inches of cloth, Dick's overone. Geoffrey's eye had risen. 

"I said Fred Shiner is a nice solid feller, " he repeated, moreemphatically. 

"He is; yes, he is, " stammered Dick; "but to me he is little more than astranger. "

"O, sure. Now I know en as well as any man can be known. And you knowen very well too, don't ye, Fancy?"

Geoffrey put on a tone expressing that these words signified at presentabout one hundred times the amount of meaning they conveyed literally. 

Dick looked anxious. 

"Will you pass me some bread?" said Fancy in a flurry, the red of herface becoming slightly disordered, and looking as solicitous as a humanbeing could look about a piece of bread. 

"Ay, that I will, " replied the unconscious Geoffrey. "Ay, " he continued, returning to the displaced idea, "we are likely to remain friendly wi'Mr. Shiner if the wheels d'run smooth. "

"An excellent thing--a very capital thing, as I should say, " the youthanswered with exceeding relevance, considering that his thoughts, insteadof following Geoffrey's remark, were nestling at a distance of about twofeet on his left the whole time. 

"A young woman's face will turn the north wind, Master Richard: my heartif 'twon't. " Dick looked more anxious and was attentive in earnest atthese words. "Yes; turn the north wind, " added Geoffrey after animpressive pause. "And though she's one of my own flesh and blood . . . "

"Will you fetch down a bit of raw-mil' cheese from pantry-shelf?" Fancyinterrupted, as if she were famishing. 

"Ay, that I will, chiel; chiel, says I, and Mr. Shiner only asking lastSaturday night . . . Cheese you said, Fancy?"

Dick controlled his emotion at these mysterious allusions to Mr. Shiner, --the better enabled to do so by perceiving that Fancy's heartwent not with her father's--and spoke like a stranger to the affairs ofthe neighbourhood. "Yes, there's a great deal to be said upon the powerof maiden faces in settling your courses, " he ventured, as the keeperretreated for the cheese. 

"The conversation is taking a very strange turn: nothing that I have everdone warrants such things being said!" murmured Fancy with emphasis, justloud enough to reach Dick's ears. 

"You think to yourself, 'twas to be, " cried Enoch from his distantcorner, by way of filling up the vacancy caused by Geoffrey's momentaryabsence. "And so you marry her, Master Dewy, and there's an end o't. "

"Pray don't say such things, Enoch, " came from Fancy severely, upon whichEnoch relapsed into servitude. 

"If we be doomed to marry, we marry; if we be doomed to remain single, wedo, " replied Dick. 

Geoffrey had by this time sat down again, and he now made his lips thinby severely straining them across his gums, and looked out of the windowalong the vista to the distant highway up Yalbury Hill. "That's not thecase with some folk, " he said at length, as if he read the words on aboard at the further end of the vista. 

Fancy looked interested, and Dick said, "No?"

"There's that wife o' mine. It was her doom to be nobody's wife at allin the wide universe. But she made up her mind that she would, and didit twice over. Doom? Doom is nothing beside a elderly woman--quite achiel in her hands!"

A movement was now heard along the upstairs passage, and footstepsdescending. The door at the foot of the stairs opened, and the secondMrs. Day appeared in view, looking fixedly at the table as she advancedtowards it, with apparent obliviousness of the presence of any otherhuman being than herself. In short, if the table had been thepersonages, and the persons the table, her glance would have been themost natural imaginable. 

She showed herself to possess an ordinary woman's face, iron-grey hair, hardly any hips, and a great deal of cleanliness in a broad white apron-string, as it appeared upon the waist of her dark stuff dress. 

"People will run away with a story now, I suppose, " she began saying, "that Jane Day's tablecloths are as poor and ragged as any unionbeggar's!"

Dick now perceived that the tablecloth was a little the worse for wear, and reflecting for a moment, concluded that 'people' in step-motherlanguage probably meant himself. On lifting his eyes he found that Mrs. Day had vanished again upstairs, and presently returned with an armful ofnew damask-linen tablecloths, folded square and hard as boards by longcompression. These she flounced down into a chair; then took one, shookit out from its folds, and spread it on the table by instalments, transferring the plates and dishes one by one from the old to the newcloth. 

"And I suppose they'll say, too, that she ha'n't a decent knife and forkin her house!"

"I shouldn't say any such ill-natured thing, I am sure--" began Dick. ButMrs. Day had vanished into the next room. Fancy appeared distressed. 

"Very strange woman, isn't she?" said Geoffrey, quietly going on with hisdinner. "But 'tis too late to attempt curing. My heart! 'tis so growedinto her that 'twould kill her to take it out. Ay, she's very queer:you'd be amazed to see what valuable goods we've got stowed awayupstairs. "

Back again came Mrs. Day with a box of bright steel horn-handled knives, silver-plated forks, carver, and all complete. These were wiped of thepreservative oil which coated them, and then a knife and fork were laiddown to each individual with a bang, the carving knife and fork thrustinto the meat dish, and the old ones they had hitherto used tossed away. 

Geoffrey placidly cut a slice with the new knife and fork, and asked Dickif he wanted any more. 

The table had been spread for the mixed midday meal of dinner and tea, which was common among frugal countryfolk. "The parishioners abouthere, " continued Mrs. Day, not looking at any living being, but snatchingup the brown delf tea-things, "are the laziest, gossipest, poachest, jailest set of any ever I came among. And they'll talk about my teapotand tea-things next, I suppose!" She vanished with the teapot, cups, andsaucers, and reappeared with a tea-service in white china, and a packetwrapped in brown paper. This was removed, together with folds of tissue-paper underneath; and a brilliant silver teapot appeared. 

"I'll help to put the things right, " said Fancy soothingly, and risingfrom her seat. "I ought to have laid out better things, I suppose. But"(here she enlarged her looks so as to include Dick) "I have been awayfrom home a good deal, and I make shocking blunders in my housekeeping. "Smiles and suavity were then dispensed all around by this bright littlebird. 

After a little more preparation and modification, Mrs. Day took her seatat the head of the table, and during the latter or tea division of themeal, presided with much composure. It may cause some surprise to learnthat, now her vagary was over, she showed herself to be an excellentperson with much common sense, and even a religious seriousness of toneon matters pertaining to her afflictions. 

CHAPTER VII: DICK MAKES HIMSELF USEFUL

The effect of Geoffrey's incidental allusions to Mr. Shiner was torestrain a considerable flow of spontaneous chat that would otherwisehave burst from young Dewy along the drive homeward. And a certainremark he had hazarded to her, in rather too blunt and eager a manner, kept the young lady herself even more silent than Dick. On both sidesthere was an unwillingness to talk on any but the most trivial subjects, and their sentences rarely took a larger form than could be expressed intwo or three words. 

Owing to Fancy being later in the day than she had promised, thecharwoman had given up expecting her; whereupon Dick could do no lessthan stay and see her comfortably tided over the disagreeable time ofentering and establishing herself in an empty house after an absence of aweek. The additional furniture and utensils that had been brought (acanary and cage among the rest) were taken out of the vehicle, and thehorse was unharnessed and put in the plot opposite, where there was sometender grass. Dick lighted the fire already laid; and activity began toloosen their tongues a little. 

"There!" said Fancy, "we forgot to bring the fire-irons!"

She had originally found in her sitting-room, to bear out the expression'nearly furnished' which the school-manager had used in his letter toher, a table, three chairs, a fender, and a piece of carpet. This'nearly' had been supplemented hitherto by a kind friend, who had lenther fire-irons and crockery until she should fetch some from home. 

Dick attended to the young lady's fire, using his whip-handle for a pokertill it was spoilt, and then flourishing a hurdle stick for the remainderof the time. 

"The kettle boils; now you shall have a cup of tea, " said Fancy, divinginto the hamper she had brought. 

"Thank you, " said Dick, whose drive had made him ready for some, especially in her company. 

"Well, here's only one cup-and-saucer, as I breathe! Whatever couldmother be thinking about? Do you mind making shift, Mr. Dewy?"

"Not at all, Miss Day, " said that civil person. 

"--And only having a cup by itself? or a saucer by itself?"

"Don't mind in the least. "

"Which do you mean by that?"

"I mean the cup, if you like the saucer. "

"And the saucer, if I like the cup?"

"Exactly, Miss Day. "

"Thank you, Mr. Dewy, for I like the cup decidedly. Stop a minute; thereare no spoons now!" She dived into the hamper again, and at the end oftwo or three minutes looked up and said, "I suppose you don't mind if Ican't find a spoon?"

"Not at all, " said the agreeable Richard. 

"The fact is, the spoons have slipped down somewhere; right under theother things. O yes, here's one, and only one. You would rather haveone than not, I suppose, Mr. Dewy?"

"Rather not. I never did care much about spoons. "

"Then I'll have it. I do care about them. You must stir up your teawith a knife. Would you mind lifting the kettle off, that it may notboil dry?"

Dick leapt to the fireplace, and earnestly removed the kettle. 

"There! you did it so wildly that you have made your hand black. Wealways use kettle-holders; didn't you learn housewifery as far as that, Mr. Dewy? Well, never mind the soot on your hand. Come here. I amgoing to rinse mine, too. "

They went to a basin she had placed in the back room. "This is the onlybasin I have, " she said. "Turn up your sleeves, and by that time myhands will be washed, and you can come. "

Her hands were in the water now. "O, how vexing!" she exclaimed. "There's not a drop of water left for you, unless you draw it, and thewell is I don't know how many furlongs deep; all that was in the pitcherI used for the kettle and this basin. Do you mind dipping the tips ofyour fingers in the same?"

"Not at all. And to save time I won't wait till you have done, if youhave no objection?"

Thereupon he plunged in his hands, and they paddled together. It beingthe first time in his life that he had touched female fingers underwater, Dick duly registered the sensation as rather a nice one. 

"Really, I hardly know which are my own hands and which are yours, theyhave got so mixed up together, " she said, withdrawing her own verysuddenly. 

"It doesn't matter at all, " said Dick, "at least as far as I amconcerned. "

"There! no towel! Whoever thinks of a towel till the hands are wet?"

"Nobody. "

"'Nobody. ' How very dull it is when people are so friendly! Come here, Mr. Dewy. Now do you think you could lift the lid of that box with yourelbow, and then, with something or other, take out a towel you will findunder the clean clothes? Be sure don't touch any of them with your wethands, for the things at the top are all Starched and Ironed. "

Dick managed, by the aid of a knife and fork, to extract a towel fromunder a muslin dress without wetting the latter; and for a moment heventured to assume a tone of criticism. 

"I fear for that dress, " he said, as they wiped their hands together. 

"What?" said Miss Day, looking into the box at the dress alluded to. "O, I know what you mean--that the vicar will never let me wear muslin?"

"Yes. "

"Well, I know it is condemned by all orders in the church as flaunting, and unfit for common wear for girls who've their living to get; but we'llsee. "

"In the interest of the church, I hope you don't speak seriously. "

"Yes, I do; but we'll see. " There was a comely determination on her lip, very pleasant to a beholder who was neither bishop, priest, nor deacon. "I think I can manage any vicar's views about me if he's under forty. "

Dick rather wished she had never thought of managing vicars. 

"I certainly shall be glad to get some of your delicious tea, " he said inrather a free way, yet modestly, as became one in a position between thatof visitor and inmate, and looking wistfully at his lonely saucer. 

"So shall I. Now is there anything else we want, Mr Dewy?"

"I really think there's nothing else, Miss Day. "

She prepared to sit down, looking musingly out of the window at Smart'senjoyment of the rich grass. "Nobody seems to care about me, " shemurmured, with large lost eyes fixed upon the sky beyond Smart. 

"Perhaps Mr. Shiner does, " said Dick, in the tone of a slightly injuredman. 

"Yes, I forgot--he does, I know. " Dick precipitately regretted that hehad suggested Shiner, since it had produced such a miserable result asthis. 

"I'll warrant you'll care for somebody very much indeed another day, won't you, Mr. Dewy?" she continued, looking very feelingly into themathematical centre of his eyes. 

"Ah, I'll warrant I shall, " said Dick, feelingly too, and looking backinto her dark pupils, whereupon they were turned aside. 

"I meant, " she went on, preventing him from speaking just as he was goingto narrate a forcible story about his feelings; "I meant that nobodycomes to see if I have returned--not even the vicar. "

"If you want to see him, I'll call at the vicarage directly we have hadsome tea. "

"No, no! Don't let him come down here, whatever you do, whilst I am insuch a state of disarrangement. Parsons look so miserable and awkwardwhen one's house is in a muddle; walking about, and making impossiblesuggestions in quaint academic phrases till your flesh creeps and youwish them dead. Do you take sugar?"

Mr. Maybold was at this instant seen coming up the path. 

"There! That's he coming! How I wish you were not here!--that is, howawkward--dear, dear!" she exclaimed, with a quick ascent of blood to herface, and irritated with Dick rather than the vicar, as it seemed. 

"Pray don't be alarmed on my account, Miss Day--good-afternoon!" saidDick in a huff, putting on his hat, and leaving the room hastily by theback-door. 

The horse was caught and put in, and on mounting the shafts to start hesaw through the window the vicar, standing upon some books piled in achair, and driving a nail into the wall; Fancy, with a demure glance, holding the canary-cage up to him, as if she had never in her lifethought of anything but vicars and canaries. 

CHAPTER VIII: DICK MEETS HIS FATHER

For several minutes Dick drove along homeward, with the inner eye ofreflection so anxiously set on his passages at arms with Fancy, that theroad and scenery were as a thin mist over the real pictures of his mind. Was she a coquette? The balance between the evidence that she did lovehim and that she did not was so nicely struck, that his opinion had nostability. She had let him put his hand upon hers; she had allowed hergaze to drop plumb into the depths of his--his into hers--three or fourtimes; her manner had been very free with regard to the basin and towel;she had appeared vexed at the mention of Shiner. On the other hand, shehad driven him about the house like a quiet dog or cat, said Shiner caredfor her, and seemed anxious that Mr. Maybold should do the same. 

Thinking thus as he neared the handpost at Mellstock Cross, sitting onthe front board of the spring cart--his legs on the outside, and hiswhole frame jigging up and down like a candle-flame to the time ofSmart's trotting--who should he see coming down the hill but his fatherin the light wagon, quivering up and down on a smaller scale of shakes, those merely caused by the stones in the road. They were soon crossingeach other's front. 

"Weh-hey!" said the tranter to Smiler. 

"Weh-hey!" said Dick to Smart, in an echo of the same voice. 

"Th'st hauled her back, I suppose?" Reuben inquired peaceably. 

"Yes, " said Dick, with such a clinching period at the end that it seemedhe was never going to add another word. Smiler, thinking this the closeof the conversation, prepared to move on. 

"Weh-hey!" said the tranter. "I tell thee what it is, Dick. That theremaid is taking up thy thoughts more than's good for thee, my sonny. Thou'rt never happy now unless th'rt making thyself miserable about herin one way or another. "

"I don't know about that, father, " said Dick rather stupidly. 

"But I do--Wey, Smiler!--'Od rot the women, 'tis nothing else wi' 'emnowadays but getting young men and leading 'em astray. "

"Pooh, father! you just repeat what all the common world says; that's allyou do. "

"The world's a very sensible feller on things in jineral, Dick; verysensible indeed. "

Dick looked into the distance at a vast expanse of mortgaged estate. "Iwish I was as rich as a squire when he's as poor as a crow, " he murmured;"I'd soon ask Fancy something. "

"I wish so too, wi' all my heart, sonny; that I do. Well, mind whatbeest about, that's all. "

Smart moved on a step or two. "Supposing now, father, --We-hey, Smart!--Idid think a little about her, and I had a chance, which I ha'n't; don'tyou think she's a very good sort of--of--one?"

"Ay, good; she's good enough. When you've made up your mind to marry, take the first respectable body that comes to hand--she's as good as anyother; they be all alike in the groundwork; 'tis only in the flourishesthere's a difference. She's good enough; but I can't see what the nationa young feller like you--wi' a comfortable house and home, and father andmother to take care o' thee, and who sent 'ee to a school so good that'twas hardly fair to the other children--should want to go holleringafter a young woman for, when she's quietly making a husband in herpocket, and not troubled by chick nor chiel, to make a poverty-stric'wife and family of her, and neither hat, cap, wig, nor waistcoat to set'em up with: be drowned if I can see it, and that's the long and theshort o't, my sonny. "

Dick looked at Smart's ears, then up the hill; but no reason wassuggested by any object that met his gaze. 

"For about the same reason that you did, father, I suppose. "

"Dang it, my sonny, thou'st got me there!" And the tranter gave vent toa grim admiration, with the mien of a man who was too magnanimous not toappreciate artistically a slight rap on the knuckles, even if they werehis own. 

"Whether or no, " said Dick, "I asked her a thing going along the road. "

"Come to that, is it? Turk! won't thy mother be in a taking! Well, she's ready, I don't doubt?"

"I didn't ask her anything about having me; and if you'll let me speak, I'll tell 'ee what I want to know. I just said, Did she care about me?"

"Piph-ph-ph!"

"And then she said nothing for a quarter of a mile, and then she said shedidn't know. Now, what I want to know is, what was the meaning of thatspeech?" The latter words were spoken resolutely, as if he didn't carefor the ridicule of all the fathers in creation. 

"The meaning of that speech is, " the tranter replied deliberately, "thatthe meaning is meant to be rather hid at present. Well, Dick, as anhonest father to thee, I don't pretend to deny what you d'know wellenough; that is, that her father being rather better in the pocket thanwe, I should welcome her ready enough if it must be somebody. "

"But what d'ye think she really did mean?" said the unsatisfied Dick. 

"I'm afeard I am not o' much account in guessing, especially as I was notthere when she said it, and seeing that your mother was the only 'ooman Iever cam' into such close quarters as that with. "

"And what did mother say to you when you asked her?" said Dick musingly. 

"I don't see that that will help 'ee. "

"The principle is the same. "

"Well--ay: what did she say? Let's see. I was oiling my working-dayboots without taking 'em off, and wi' my head hanging down, when she justbrushed on by the garden hatch like a flittering leaf. 'Ann, ' I said, says I, and then, --but, Dick I'm afeard 'twill be no help to thee; for wewere such a rum couple, your mother and I, leastways one half was, thatis myself--and your mother's charms was more in the manner than thematerial. "

"Never mind! 'Ann, ' said you. "

"'Ann, ' said I, as I was saying . . . 'Ann, ' I said to her when I wasoiling my working-day boots wi' my head hanging down, 'Woot hae me?' . . . What came next I can't quite call up at this distance o' time. Perhapsyour mother would know, --she's got a better memory for her littletriumphs than I. However, the long and the short o' the story is that wewere married somehow, as I found afterwards. 'Twas on WhiteTuesday, --Mellstock Club walked the same day, every man two and two, anda fine day 'twas, --hot as fire, --how the sun did strike down upon my backgoing to church! I well can mind what a bath o' sweating I was in, bodyand soul! But Fance will ha' thee, Dick--she won't walk with anotherchap--no such good luck. "

"I don't know about that, " said Dick, whipping at Smart's flank in afanciful way, which, as Smart knew, meant nothing in connection withgoing on. "There's Pa'son Maybold, too--that's all against me. "

"What about he? She's never been stuffing into thy innocent heart thathe's in hove with her? Lord, the vanity o' maidens!"

"No, no. But he called, and she looked at him in such a way, and at mein such a way--quite different the ways were, --and as I was coming off, there was he hanging up her birdcage. "

"Well, why shouldn't the man hang up her bird-cage? Turk seize it all, what's that got to do wi' it? Dick, that thou beest a white-lyvered chapI don't say, but if thou beestn't as mad as a cappel-faced bull, let mesmile no more. "

"O, ay. "

"And what's think now, Dick?"

"I don't know. "

"Here's another pretty kettle o' fish for thee. Who d'ye think's thebitter weed in our being turned out? Did our party tell 'ee?"

"No. Why, Pa'son Maybold, I suppose. "

"Shiner, --because he's in love with thy young woman, and d'want to seeher young figure sitting up at that queer instrument, and her youngfingers rum-strumming upon the keys. "

A sharp ado of sweet and bitter was going on in Dick during thiscommunication from his father. "Shiner's a fool!--no, that's not it; Idon't believe any such thing, father. Why, Shiner would never take abold step like that, unless she'd been a little made up to, and had takenit kindly. Pooh!"

"Who's to say she didn't?"

"I do. "

"The more fool you. "

"Why, father of me?"

"Has she ever done more to thee?"

"No. "

"Then she has done as much to he--rot 'em! Now, Dick, this is how a maidis. She'll swear she's dying for thee, and she is dying for thee, andshe will die for thee; but she'll fling a look over t'other shoulder atanother young feller, though never leaving off dying for thee just thesame. "

"She's not dying for me, and so she didn't fling a look at him. "

"But she may be dying for him, for she looked at thee. "

"I don't know what to make of it at all, " said Dick gloomily. 

"All I can make of it is, " the tranter said, raising his whip, arranginghis different joints and muscles, and motioning to the horse to move on, "that if you can't read a maid's mind by her motions, nature d'seem tosay thou'st ought to be a bachelor. Clk, clk! Smiler!" And the trantermoved on. 

Dick held Smart's rein firmly, and the whole concern of horse, cart, andman remained rooted in the lane. How long this condition would havelasted is unknown, had not Dick's thoughts, after adding up numerousitems of misery, gradually wandered round to the fact that as somethingmust be done, it could not be done by staying there all night. 

Reaching home he went up to his bedroom, shut the door as if he weregoing to be seen no more in this life, and taking a sheet of paper anduncorking the ink-bottle, he began a letter. The dignity of the writer'smind was so powerfully apparent in every line of this effusion that itobscured the logical sequence of facts and intentions to an appreciabledegree; and it was not at all clear to a reader whether he there and thenleft off loving Miss Fancy Day; whether he had never loved her seriously, and never meant to; whether he had been dying up to the present moment, and now intended to get well again; or whether he had hitherto been ingood health, and intended to die for her forthwith. 

He put this letter in an envelope, sealed it up, directed it in a sternhandwriting of straight dashes--easy flourishes being rigorouslyexcluded. He walked with it in his pocket down the lane in strides notan inch less than three feet long. Reaching her gate he put on aresolute expression--then put it off again, turned back homeward, tore uphis letter, and sat down. 

That letter was altogether in a wrong tone--that he must own. Aheartless man-of-the-world tone was what the juncture required. That herather wanted her, and rather did not want her--the latter for choice;but that as a member of society he didn't mind making a query in jauntyterms, which could only be answered in the same way: did she meananything by her bearing towards him, or did she not?

This letter was considered so satisfactory in every way that, being putinto the hands of a little boy, and the order given that he was to runwith it to the school, he was told in addition not to look behind him ifDick called after him to bring it back, but to run along with it just thesame. Having taken this precaution against vacillation, Dick watched hismessenger down the road, and turned into the house whistling an air insuch ghastly jerks and starts, that whistling seemed to be the act thevery furthest removed from that which was instinctive in such a youth. 

The letter was left as ordered: the next morning came and passed--and noanswer. The next. The next. Friday night came. Dick resolved that ifno answer or sign were given by her the next day, on Sunday he would meether face to face, and have it all out by word of mouth. 

"Dick, " said his father, coming in from the garden at that moment--ineach hand a hive of bees tied in a cloth to prevent their egress--"Ithink you'd better take these two swarms of bees to Mrs. Maybold's to-morrow, instead o' me, and I'll go wi' Smiler and the wagon. "

It was a relief; for Mrs. Maybold, the vicar's mother, who had just takeninto her head a fancy for keeping bees (pleasantly disguised under thepretence of its being an economical wish to produce her own honey), livednear the watering-place of Budmouth-Regis, ten miles off, and thebusiness of transporting the hives thither would occupy the whole day, and to some extent annihilate the vacant time between this evening andthe coming Sunday. The best spring-cart was washed throughout, the axlesoiled, and the bees placed therein for the journey. 

PART THE THIRD--SUMMER

CHAPTER I: DRIVING OUT OF BUDMOUTH

An easy bend of neck and graceful set of head; full and wavy bundles ofdark-brown hair; light fall of little feet; pretty devices on the skirtof the dress; clear deep eyes; in short, a bunch of sweets: it was Fancy!Dick's heart went round to her with a rush. 

The scene was the corner of Mary Street in Budmouth-Regis, near theKing's statue, at which point the white angle of the last house in therow cut perpendicularly an embayed and nearly motionless expanse of saltwater projected from the outer ocean--to-day lit in bright tones of greenand opal. Dick and Smart had just emerged from the street, and there onthe right, against the brilliant sheet of liquid colour, stood Fancy Day;and she turned and recognized him. 

Dick suspended his thoughts of the letter and wonder at how she camethere by driving close to the chains of the Esplanade--incontinentlydisplacing two chairmen, who had just come to life for the summer in newclean shirts and revivified clothes, and being almost displaced in turnby a rigid boy rattling along with a baker's cart, and looking neither tothe right nor the left. He asked if she were going to Mellstock thatnight. 

"Yes, I'm waiting for the carrier, " she replied, seeming, too, to suspendthoughts of the letter. 

"Now I can drive you home nicely, and you save half an hour. Will yecome with me?"

As Fancy's power to will anything seemed to have departed in somemysterious manner at that moment, Dick settled the matter by getting outand assisting her into the vehicle without another word. 

The temporary flush upon her cheek changed to a lesser hue, which waspermanent, and at length their eyes met; there was present between them acertain feeling of embarrassment, which arises at such moments when allthe instinctive acts dictated by the position have been performed. Dick, being engaged with the reins, thought less of this awkwardness than didFancy, who had nothing to do but to feel his presence, and to be more andmore conscious of the fact, that by accepting a seat beside him in thisway she succumbed to the tone of his note. Smart jogged along, and Dickjogged, and the helpless Fancy necessarily jogged, too; and she felt thatshe was in a measure captured and made a prisoner. 

"I am so much obliged to you for your company, Miss Day, " he observed, asthey drove past the two semicircular bays of the Old Royal Hotel, whereHis Majesty King George the Third had many a time attended the balls ofthe burgesses. 

To Miss Day, crediting him with the same consciousness of mastery--aconsciousness of which he was perfectly innocent--this remark soundedlike a magnanimous intention to soothe her, the captive. 

"I didn't come for the pleasure of obliging you with my company, " shesaid. 

The answer had an unexpected manner of incivility in it that must havebeen rather surprising to young Dewy. At the same time it may beobserved, that when a young woman returns a rude answer to a young man'scivil remark, her heart is in a state which argues rather hopefully forhis case than otherwise. 

There was silence between them till they had left the sea-front andpassed about twenty of the trees that ornamented the road leading up outof the town towards Casterbridge and Mellstock. 

"Though I didn't come for that purpose either, I would have done it, "said Dick at the twenty-first tree. 

"Now, Mr. Dewy, no flirtation, because it's wrong, and I don't wish it. "

Dick seated himself afresh just as he had been sitting before, arrangedhis looks very emphatically, and cleared his throat. 

"Really, anybody would think you had met me on business and were justgoing to commence, " said the lady intractably. 

"Yes, they would. "

"Why, you never have, to be sure!"

This was a shaky beginning. He chopped round, and said cheerily, as aman who had resolved never to spoil his jollity by loving one ofwomankind--

"Well, how are you getting on, Miss Day, at the present time? Gaily, Idon't doubt for a moment. "

"I am not gay, Dick; you know that. "

"Gaily doesn't mean decked in gay dresses. "

"I didn't suppose gaily was gaily dressed. Mighty me, what a scholaryou've grown!"

"Lots of things have happened to you this spring, I see. "

"What have you seen?"

"O, nothing; I've heard, I mean!"

"What have you heard?"

"The name of a pretty man, with brass studs and a copper ring and a tinwatch-chain, a little mixed up with your own. That's all. "

"That's a very unkind picture of Mr. Shiner, for that's who you mean! Thestuds are gold, as you know, and it's a real silver chain; the ring Ican't conscientiously defend, and he only wore it once. "

"He might have worn it a hundred times without showing it half so much. "

"Well, he's nothing to me, " she serenely observed. 

"Not any more than I am?"

"Now, Mr. Dewy, " said Fancy severely, "certainly he isn't any more to methan you are!"

"Not so much?"

She looked aside to consider the precise compass of that question. "ThatI can't exactly answer, " she replied with soft archness. 

As they were going rather slowly, another spring-cart, containing afarmer, farmer's wife, and farmer's man, jogged past them; and thefarmer's wife and farmer's man eyed the couple very curiously. Thefarmer never looked up from the horse's tail. 

"Why can't you exactly answer?" said Dick, quickening Smart a little, andjogging on just behind the farmer and farmer's wife and man. 

As no answer came, and as their eyes had nothing else to do, they bothcontemplated the picture presented in front, and noticed how the farmer'swife sat flattened between the two men, who bulged over each end of theseat to give her room, till they almost sat upon their respective wheels;and they looked too at the farmer's wife's silk mantle, inflating itselfbetween her shoulders like a balloon and sinking flat again, at each jogof the horse. The farmer's wife, feeling their eyes sticking into herback, looked over her shoulder. Dick dropped ten yards further behind. 

"Fancy, why can't you answer?" he repeated. 

"Because how much you are to me depends upon how much I am to you, " saidshe in low tones. 

"Everything, " said Dick, putting his hand towards hers, and castingemphatic eyes upon the upper curve of her cheek. 

"Now, Richard Dewy, no touching me! I didn't say in what way yourthinking of me affected the question--perhaps inversely, don't you see?No touching, sir! Look; goodness me, don't, Dick!"

The cause of her sudden start was the unpleasant appearance over Dick'sright shoulder of an empty timber-wagon and four journeymen-carpentersreclining in lazy postures inside it, their eyes directed upwards atvarious oblique angles into the surrounding world, the chief object oftheir existence being apparently to criticize to the very backbone andmarrow every animate object that came within the compass of their vision. This difficulty of Dick's was overcome by trotting on till the wagon andcarpenters were beginning to look rather misty by reason of a film ofdust that accompanied their wagon-wheels, and rose around their headslike a fog. 

"Say you love me, Fancy. "

"No, Dick, certainly not; 'tisn't time to do that yet. "

"Why, Fancy?"

"'Miss Day' is better at present--don't mind my saying so; and I oughtnot to have called you Dick. "

"Nonsense! when you know that I would do anything on earth for your love. Why, you make any one think that loving is a thing that can be done andundone, and put on and put off at a mere whim. "

"No, no, I don't, " she said gently; "but there are things which tell me Iought not to give way to much thinking about you, even if--"

"But you want to, don't you? Yes, say you do; it is best to be truthful. Whatever they may say about a woman's right to conceal where her lovelies, and pretend it doesn't exist, and things like that, it is not best;I do know it, Fancy. And an honest woman in that, as well as in all herdaily concerns, shines most brightly, and is thought most of in the long-run. "

"Well then, perhaps, Dick, I do love you a little, " she whisperedtenderly; "but I wish you wouldn't say any more now. "

"I won't say any more now, then, if you don't like it, dear. But you dolove me a little, don't you?"

"Now you ought not to want me to keep saying things twice; I can't sayany more now, and you must be content with what you have. "

"I may at any rate call you Fancy? There's no harm in that. "

"Yes, you may. "

"And you'll not call me Mr. Dewy any more?"

"Very well. "

CHAPTER II: FURTHER ALONG THE ROAD

Dick's spirits having risen in the course of these admissions of hissweetheart, he now touched Smart with the whip; and on Smart's neck, notfar behind his ears. Smart, who had been lost in thought for some time, never dreaming that Dick could reach so far with a whip which, on thisparticular journey, had never been extended further than his flank, tossed his head, and scampered along with exceeding briskness, which wasvery pleasant to the young couple behind him till, turning a bend in theroad, they came instantly upon the farmer, farmer's man, and farmer'swife with the flapping mantle, all jogging on just the same as ever. 

"Bother those people! Here we are upon them again. "

"Well, of course. They have as much right to the road as we. "

"Yes, but it is provoking to be overlooked so. I like a road all tomyself. Look what a lumbering affair theirs is!" The wheels of thefarmer's cart, just at that moment, jogged into a depression runningacross the road, giving the cart a twist, whereupon all three nodded tothe left, and on coming out of it all three nodded to the right, and wenton jerking their backs in and out as usual. "We'll pass them when theroad gets wider. "

When an opportunity seemed to offer itself for carrying this intentioninto effect, they heard light flying wheels behind, and on theirquartering there whizzed along past them a brand-new gig, so brightlypolished that the spokes of the wheels sent forth a continual quiveringlight at one point in their circle, and all the panels glared likemirrors in Dick and Fancy's eyes. The driver, and owner as it appeared, was really a handsome man; his companion was Shiner. Both turned roundas they passed Dick and Fancy, and stared with bold admiration in herface till they were obliged to attend to the operation of passing thefarmer. Dick glanced for an instant at Fancy while she was undergoingtheir scrutiny; then returned to his driving with rather a sadcountenance. 

"Why are you so silent?" she said, after a while, with real concern. 

"Nothing. "

"Yes, it is, Dick. I couldn't help those people passing. "

"I know that. "

"You look offended with me. What have I done?"

"I can't tell without offending you. "

"Better out. "

"Well, " said Dick, who seemed longing to tell, even at the risk ofoffending her, "I was thinking how different you in love are from me inlove. Whilst those men were staring, you dismissed me from your thoughtsaltogether, and--"

"You can't offend me further now; tell all!"

"And showed upon your face a pleased sense of being attractive to 'em. "

"Don't be silly, Dick! You know very well I didn't. "

Dick shook his head sceptically, and smiled. 

"Dick, I always believe flattery if possible--and it was possible then. Now there's an open confession of weakness. But I showed noconsciousness of it. "

Dick, perceiving by her look that she would adhere to her statement, charitably forbore saying anything that could make her prevaricate. Thesight of Shiner, too, had recalled another branch of the subject to hismind; that which had been his greatest trouble till her company and wordshad obscured its probability. 

"By the way, Fancy, do you know why our quire is to be dismissed?"

"No: except that it is Mr. Maybold's wish for me to play the organ. "

"Do you know how it came to be his wish?"

"That I don't. "

"Mr. Shiner, being churchwarden, has persuaded the vicar; who, however, was willing enough before. Shiner, I know, is crazy to see you playingevery Sunday; I suppose he'll turn over your music, for the organ will beclose to his pew. But--I know you have never encouraged him?"

"Never once!" said Fancy emphatically, and with eyes full of earnesttruth. "I don't like him indeed, and I never heard of his doing thisbefore! I have always felt that I should like to play in a church, but Inever wished to turn you and your choir out; and I never even said that Icould play till I was asked. You don't think for a moment that I did, surely, do you?"

"I know you didn't, dear. "

"Or that I care the least morsel of a bit for him?"

"I know you don't. "

The distance between Budmouth and Mellstock was ten or eleven miles, andthere being a good inn, 'The Ship, ' four miles out of Budmouth, with amast and cross-trees in front, Dick's custom in driving thither was todivide the journey into three stages by resting at this inn going andcoming, and not troubling the Budmouth stables at all, whenever his visitto the town was a mere call and deposit, as to-day. 

Fancy was ushered into a little tea-room, and Dick went to the stables tosee to the feeding of Smart. In face of the significant twitches offeature that were visible in the ostler and labouring men idling around, Dick endeavoured to look unconscious of the fact that there was anysentiment between him and Fancy beyond a tranter's desire to carry apassenger home. He presently entered the inn and opened the door ofFancy's room. 

"Dick, do you know, it has struck me that it is rather awkward, my beinghere alone with you like this. I don't think you had better come in withme. "

"That's rather unpleasant, dear. "

"Yes, it is, and I wanted you to have some tea as well as myself too, because you must be tired. "

"Well, let me have some with you, then. I was denied once before, if yourecollect, Fancy. "

"Yes, yes, never mind! And it seems unfriendly of me now, but I don'tknow what to do. "

"It shall be as you say, then. " Dick began to retreat with adissatisfied wrinkling of face, and a farewell glance at the cosy tea-tray. 

"But you don't see how it is, Dick, when you speak like that, " she said, with more earnestness than she had ever shown before. "You do know, thateven if I care very much for you, I must remember that I have a difficultposition to maintain. The vicar would not like me, as hisschoolmistress, to indulge in a tete-a-tete anywhere with anybody. "

"But I am not any body!" exclaimed Dick. 

"No, no, I mean with a young man;" and she added softly, "unless I werereally engaged to be married to him. "

"Is that all? Then, dearest, dearest, why we'll be engaged at once, tobe sure we will, and down I sit! There it is, as easy as a glove!"

"Ah! but suppose I won't! And, goodness me, what have I done!" shefaltered, getting very red. "Positively, it seems as if I meant you tosay that!"

"Let's do it! I mean get engaged, " said Dick. "Now, Fancy, will you bemy wife?"

"Do you know, Dick, it was rather unkind of you to say what you didcoming along the road, " she remarked, as if she had not heard the latterpart of his speech; though an acute observer might have noticed about herbreast, as the word 'wife' fell from Dick's lips, a soft silent escape ofbreaths, with very short rests between each. 

"What did I say?"

"About my trying to look attractive to those men in the gig. "

"You couldn't help looking so, whether you tried or no. And, Fancy, youdo care for me?"

"Yes. "

"Very much?"

"Yes. "

"And you'll be my own wife?"

Her heart quickened, adding to and withdrawing from her cheek varyingtones of red to match each varying thought. Dick looked expectantly atthe ripe tint of her delicate mouth, waiting for what was coming forth. 

"Yes--if father will let me. "

Dick drew himself close to her, compressing his lips and pouting themout, as if he were about to whistle the softest melody known. 

"O no!" said Fancy solemnly. 

The modest Dick drew back a little. 

"Dick, Dick, kiss me and let me go instantly!--here's somebody coming!"she whisperingly exclaimed. 

* * *

Half an hour afterwards Dick emerged from the inn, and if Fancy's lipshad been real cherries probably Dick's would have appeared deeplystained. The landlord was standing in the yard. 

"Heu-heu! hay-hay, Master Dewy! Ho-ho!" he laughed, letting the laughslip out gently and by degrees that it might make little noise in itsexit, and smiting Dick under the fifth rib at the same time. "This willnever do, upon my life, Master Dewy! calling for tay for a feymelpassenger, and then going in and sitting down and having some too, andbiding such a fine long time!"

"But surely you know?" said Dick, with great apparent surprise. "Yes, yes! Ha-ha!" smiting the landlord under the ribs in return. 

"Why, what? Yes, yes; ha-ha!"

"You know, of course!"

"Yes, of course! But--that is--I don't. "

"Why about--between that young lady and me?" nodding to the window of theroom that Fancy occupied. 

"No; not I!" said the innkeeper, bringing his eyes into circles. 

"And you don't!"

"Not a word, I'll take my oath!"

"But you laughed when I laughed. "

"Ay, that was me sympathy; so did you when I laughed!"

"Really, you don't know? Goodness--not knowing that!"

"I'll take my oath I don't!"

"O yes, " said Dick, with frigid rhetoric of pitying astonishment, "we'reengaged to be married, you see, and I naturally look after her. "

"Of course, of course! I didn't know that, and I hope ye'll excuse anylittle freedom of mine, Mr. Dewy. But it is a very odd thing; I wastalking to your father very intimate about family matters only lastFriday in the world, and who should come in but Keeper Day, and we allthen fell a-talking o' family matters; but neither one o' them said amortal word about it; knowen me too so many years, and I at your father'sown wedding. 'Tisn't what I should have expected from an old neighbour!"

"Well, to say the truth, we hadn't told father of the engagement at thattime; in fact, 'twasn't settled. "

"Ah! the business was done Sunday. Yes, yes, Sunday's the courting day. Heu-heu!"

"No, 'twasn't done Sunday in particular. "

"After school-hours this week? Well, a very good time, a very propergood time. "

"O no, 'twasn't done then. "

"Coming along the road to-day then, I suppose?"

"Not at all; I wouldn't think of getting engaged in a dog-cart. "

"Dammy--might as well have said at once, the when be blowed! Anyhow, 'tis a fine day, and I hope next time you'll come as one. "

Fancy was duly brought out and assisted into the vehicle, and the newlyaffianced youth and maiden passed up the steep hill to the Ridgeway, andvanished in the direction of Mellstock. 

CHAPTER III: A CONFESSION

It was a morning of the latter summer-time; a morning of lingering dews, when the grass is never dry in the shade. Fuchsias and dahlias wereladen till eleven o'clock with small drops and dashes of water, changingthe colour of their sparkle at every movement of the air; and elsewherehanging on twigs like small silver fruit. The threads of garden spidersappeared thick and polished. In the dry and sunny places, dozens of long-legged crane-flies whizzed off the grass at every step the passer took. 

Fancy Day and her friend Susan Dewy the tranter's daughter, were in sucha spot as this, pulling down a bough laden with early apples. Threemonths had elapsed since Dick and Fancy had journeyed together fromBudmouth, and the course of their love had run on vigorously during thewhole time. There had been just enough difficulty attending itsdevelopment, and just enough finesse required in keeping it private, tolend the passion an ever-increasing freshness on Fancy's part, whilst, whether from these accessories or not, Dick's heart had been at all timesas fond as could be desired. But there was a cloud on Fancy's horizonnow. 

"She is so well off--better than any of us, " Susan Dewy was saying. "Herfather farms five hundred acres, and she might marry a doctor or curateor anything of that kind if she contrived a little. "

"I don't think Dick ought to have gone to that gipsy-party at all when heknew I couldn't go, " replied Fancy uneasily. 

"He didn't know that you would not be there till it was too late torefuse the invitation, " said Susan. 

"And what was she like? Tell me. "

"Well, she was rather pretty, I must own. "

"Tell straight on about her, can't you! Come, do, Susan. How many timesdid you say he danced with her?"

"Once. "

"Twice, I think you said?"

"Indeed I'm sure I didn't. "

"Well, and he wanted to again, I expect. "

"No; I don't think he did. She wanted to dance with him again badenough, I know. Everybody does with Dick, because he's so handsome andsuch a clever courter. "

"O, I wish!--How did you say she wore her hair?"

"In long curls, --and her hair is light, and it curls without being put inpaper: that's how it is she's so attractive. "

"She's trying to get him away! yes, yes, she is! And through keepingthis miserable school I mustn't wear my hair in curls! But I will; Idon't care if I leave the school and go home, I will wear my curls! Look, Susan, do! is her hair as soft and long as this?" Fancy pulled from itscoil under her hat a twine of her own hair, and stretched it down hershoulder to show its length, looking at Susan to catch her opinion fromher eyes. 

"It is about the same length as that, I think, " said Miss Dewy. 

Fancy paused hopelessly. "I wish mine was lighter, like hers!" shecontinued mournfully. "But hers isn't so soft, is it? Tell me, now. "

"I don't know. "

Fancy abstractedly extended her vision to survey a yellow butterfly and ared-and-black butterfly that were flitting along in company, and thenbecame aware that Dick was advancing up the garden. 

"Susan, here's Dick coming; I suppose that's because we've been talkingabout him. "

"Well, then, I shall go indoors now--you won't want me;" and Susan turnedpractically and walked off. 

Enter the single-minded Dick, whose only fault at the gipsying, orpicnic, had been that of loving Fancy too exclusively, and deprivinghimself of the innocent pleasure the gathering might have afforded him, by sighing regretfully at her absence, --who had danced with the rival insheer despair of ever being able to get through that stale, flat, andunprofitable afternoon in any other way; but this she would not believe. 

Fancy had settled her plan of emotion. To reproach Dick? O no, no. "Iam in great trouble, " said she, taking what was intended to be ahopelessly melancholy survey of a few small apples lying under the tree;yet a critical ear might have noticed in her voice a tentative tone as tothe effect of the words upon Dick when she uttered them. 

"What are you in trouble about? Tell me of it, " said Dick earnestly. "Darling, I will share it with 'ee and help 'ee. "

"No, no: you can't! Nobody can!"

"Why not? You don't deserve it, whatever it is. Tell me, dear. "

"O, it isn't what you think! It is dreadful: my own sin!"

"Sin, Fancy! as if you could sin! I know it can't be. "

"'Tis, 'tis!" said the young lady, in a pretty little frenzy of sorrow. "I have done wrong, and I don't like to tell it! Nobody will forgive me, nobody! and you above all will not! . . . I have allowed myselfto--to--fl--"

"What, --not flirt!" he said, controlling his emotion as it were by asudden pressure inward from his surface. "And you said only the daybefore yesterday that you hadn't flirted in your life!"

"Yes, I did; and that was a wicked story! I have let another love me, and--"

"Good G--! Well, I'll forgive you, --yes, if you couldn't help it, --yes, I will!" said the now dismal Dick. "Did you encourage him?"

"O, --I don't know, --yes--no. O, I think so!"

"Who was it?" A pause. "Tell me!"

"Mr. Shiner. "

After a silence that was only disturbed by the fall of an apple, a long-checked sigh from Dick, and a sob from Fancy, he said with realausterity--

"Tell it all;--every word!"

"He looked at me, and I looked at him, and he said, 'Will you let me showyou how to catch bullfinches down here by the stream?' And I--wanted toknow very much--I did so long to have a bullfinch! I couldn't help thatand I said, 'Yes!' and then he said, 'Come here. ' And I went with himdown to the lovely river, and then he said to me, 'Look and see how I doit, and then you'll know: I put this birdlime round this twig, and then Igo here, ' he said, 'and hide away under a bush; and presently cleverMister Bird comes and perches upon the twig, and flaps his wings, andyou've got him before you can say Jack'--something; O, O, O, I forgetwhat!"

"Jack Sprat, " mournfully suggested Dick through the cloud of his misery. 

"No, not Jack Sprat, " she sobbed. 

"Then 'twas Jack Robinson!" he said, with the emphasis of a man who hadresolved to discover every iota of the truth, or die. 

"Yes, that was it! And then I put my hand upon the rail of the bridge toget across, and--That's all. "

"Well, that isn't much, either, " said Dick critically, and morecheerfully. "Not that I see what business Shiner has to take uponhimself to teach you anything. But it seems--it do seem there must havebeen more than that to set you up in such a dreadful taking?"

He looked into Fancy's eyes. Misery of miseries!--guilt was writtenthere still. 

"Now, Fancy, you've not told me all!" said Dick, rather sternly for aquiet young man. 

"O, don't speak so cruelly! I am afraid to tell now! If you hadn't beenharsh, I was going on to tell all; now I can't!"

"Come, dear Fancy, tell: come. I'll forgive; I must, --by heaven andearth, I must, whether I will or no; I love you so!"

"Well, when I put my hand on the bridge, he touched it--"

"A scamp!" said Dick, grinding an imaginary human frame to powder. 

"And then he looked at me, and at last he said, 'Are you in love withDick Dewy?' And I said, 'Perhaps I am!' and then he said, 'I wish youweren't then, for I want to marry you, with all my soul. '"

"There's a villain now! Want to marry you!" And Dick quivered with thebitterness of satirical laughter. Then suddenly remembering that hemight be reckoning without his host: "Unless, to be sure, you are willingto have him, --perhaps you are, " he said, with the wretched indifferenceof a castaway. 

"No, indeed I am not!" she said, her sobs just beginning to take afavourable turn towards cure. 

"Well, then, " said Dick, coming a little to his senses, "you've beenstretching it very much in giving such a dreadful beginning to such amere nothing. And I know what you've done it for, --just because of thatgipsy-party!" He turned away from her and took five paces decisively, asif he were tired of an ungrateful country, including herself. "You didit to make me jealous, and I won't stand it!" He flung the words to herover his shoulder and then stalked on, apparently very anxious to walk tothe remotest of the Colonies that very minute. 

"O, O, O, Dick--Dick!" she cried, trotting after him like a pet lamb, andreally seriously alarmed at last, "you'll kill me! My impulses arebad--miserably wicked, --and I can't help it; forgive me, Dick! And Ilove you always; and those times when you look silly and don't seem quitegood enough for me, --just the same, I do, Dick! And there is somethingmore serious, though not concerning that walk with him. "

"Well, what is it?" said Dick, altering his mind about walking to theColonies; in fact, passing to the other extreme, and standing so rootedto the road that he was apparently not even going home. 

"Why this, " she said, drying the beginning of a new flood of tears shehad been going to shed, "this is the serious part. Father has told Mr. Shiner that he would like him for a son-in-law, if he could get me;--thathe has his right hearty consent to come courting me!"

CHAPTER IV: AN ARRANGEMENT

"That is serious, " said Dick, more intellectually than he had spoken fora long time. 

The truth was that Geoffrey knew nothing about his daughter's continuedwalks and meetings with Dick. When a hint that there were symptoms of anattachment between them had first reached Geoffrey's ears, he stated soemphatically that he must think the matter over before any such thingcould be allowed that, rather unwisely on Dick's part, whatever it mighthave been on the lady's, the lovers were careful to be seen together nomore in public; and Geoffrey, forgetting the report, did not think overthe matter at all. So Mr. Shiner resumed his old position in Geoffrey'sbrain by mere flux of time. Even Shiner began to believe that Dickexisted for Fancy no more, --though that remarkably easy-going man hadtaken no active steps on his own account as yet. 

"And father has not only told Mr. Shiner that, " continued Fancy, "but hehas written me a letter, to say he should wish me to encourage Mr. Shiner, if 'twas convenient!"

"I must start off and see your father at once!" said Dick, taking two orthree vehement steps to the south, recollecting that Mr. Day lived to thenorth, and coming back again. 

"I think we had better see him together. Not tell him what you come for, or anything of the kind, until he likes you, and so win his brain throughhis heart, which is always the way to manage people. I mean in this way:I am going home on Saturday week to help them in the honey-taking. Youmight come there to me, have something to eat and drink, and let himguess what your coming signifies, without saying it in so many words. "

"We'll do it, dearest. But I shall ask him for you, flat and plain; notwait for his guessing. " And the lover then stepped close to her, andattempted to give her one little kiss on the cheek, his lips alighting, however, on an outlying tract of her back hair by reason of an impulsethat had caused her to turn her head with a jerk. "Yes, and I'll put onmy second-best suit and a clean shirt and collar, and black my boots asif 'twas a Sunday. 'Twill have a good appearance, you see, and that's agreat deal to start with. "

"You won't wear that old waistcoat, will you, Dick?"

"Bless you, no! Why I--"

"I didn't mean to be personal, dear Dick, " she said, fearing she had hurthis feelings. "'Tis a very nice waistcoat, but what I meant was, thatthough it is an excellent waistcoat for a settled-down man, it is notquite one for" (she waited, and a blush expanded over her face, and thenshe went on again)--"for going courting in. "

"No, I'll wear my best winter one, with the leather lining, that mothermade. It is a beautiful, handsome waistcoat inside, yes, as ever anybodysaw. In fact, only the other day, I unbuttoned it to show a chap thatvery lining, and he said it was the strongest, handsomest lining youcould wish to see on the king's waistcoat himself. "

"I don't quite know what to wear, " she said, as if her habitualindifference alone to dress had kept back so important a subject tillnow. 

"Why, that blue frock you wore last week. "

"Doesn't set well round the neck. I couldn't wear that. "

"But I shan't care. "

"No, you won't mind. "

"Well, then it's all right. Because you only care how you look to me, doyou, dear? I only dress for you, that's certain. "

"Yes, but you see I couldn't appear in it again very well. "

"Any strange gentleman you mid meet in your journey might notice the setof it, I suppose. Fancy, men in love don't think so much about how theylook to other women. " It is difficult to say whether a tone of playfulbanter or of gentle reproach prevailed in the speech. 

"Well then, Dick, " she said, with good-humoured frankness, "I'll own it. I shouldn't like a stranger to see me dressed badly, even though I am inlove. 'Tis our nature, I suppose. "

"You perfect woman!"

"Yes; if you lay the stress on 'woman, '" she murmured, looking at a groupof hollyhocks in flower, round which a crowd of butterflies had gatheredlike female idlers round a bonnet-shop. 

"But about the dress. Why not wear the one you wore at our party?"

"That sets well, but a girl of the name of Bet Tallor, who lives near ourhouse, has had one made almost like it (only in pattern, though ofmiserably cheap stuff), and I couldn't wear it on that account. Dear me, I am afraid I can't go now. "

"O yes, you must; I know you will!" said Dick, with dismay. "Why notwear what you've got on?"

"What! this old one! After all, I think that by wearing my gray oneSaturday, I can make the blue one do for Sunday. Yes, I will. A hat ora bonnet, which shall it be? Which do I look best in?"

"Well, I think the bonnet is nicest, more quiet and matronly. "

"What's the objection to the hat? Does it make me look old?"

"O no; the hat is well enough; but it makes you look rather too--youwon't mind me saying it, dear?"

"Not at all, for I shall wear the bonnet. "

"--Rather too coquettish and flirty for an engaged young woman. "

She reflected a minute. "Yes; yes. Still, after all, the hat would dobest; hats are best, you see. Yes, I must wear the hat, dear Dicky, because I ought to wear a hat, you know. "

PART THE FOURTH--AUTUMN

CHAPTER I: GOING NUTTING

Dick, dressed in his 'second-best' suit, burst into Fancy's sitting-roomwith a glow of pleasure on his face. 

It was two o'clock on Friday, the day before her contemplated visit toher father, and for some reason connected with cleaning the school thechildren had been given this Friday afternoon for pastime, in addition tothe usual Saturday. 

"Fancy! it happens just right that it is a leisure half day with you. Smart is lame in his near-foot-afore, and so, as I can't do anything, I've made a holiday afternoon of it, and am come for you to go nuttingwith me!"

She was sitting by the parlour window, with a blue frock lying across herlap and scissors in her hand. 

"Go nutting! Yes. But I'm afraid I can't go for an hour or so. "

"Why not? 'Tis the only spare afternoon we may both have together forweeks. "

"This dress of mine, that I am going to wear on Sunday at Yalbury;--Ifind it fits so badly that I must alter it a little, after all. I toldthe dressmaker to make it by a pattern I gave her at the time; instead ofthat, she did it her own way, and made me look a perfect fright. "

"How long will you be?" he inquired, looking rather disappointed. 

"Not long. Do wait and talk to me; come, do, dear. "

Dick sat down. The talking progressed very favourably, amid the snippingand sewing, till about half-past two, at which time his conversationbegan to be varied by a slight tapping upon his toe with a walking-stickhe had cut from the hedge as he came along. Fancy talked and answeredhim, but sometimes the answers were so negligently given, that it wasevident her thoughts lay for the greater part in her lap with the bluedress. 

The clock struck three. Dick arose from his seat, walked round the roomwith his hands behind him, examined all the furniture, then sounded a fewnotes on the harmonium, then looked inside all the books he could find, then smoothed Fancy's head with his hand. Still the snipping and sewingwent on. 

The clock struck four. Dick fidgeted about, yawned privately; countedthe knots in the table, yawned publicly; counted the flies on theceiling, yawned horribly; went into the kitchen and scullery, and sothoroughly studied the principle upon which the pump was constructed thathe could have delivered a lecture on the subject. Stepping back toFancy, and finding still that she had not done, he went into her gardenand looked at her cabbages and potatoes, and reminded himself that theyseemed to him to wear a decidedly feminine aspect; then pulled up severalweeds, and came in again. The clock struck five, and still the snippingand sewing went on. 

Dick attempted to kill a fly, peeled all the rind off his walking-stick, then threw the stick into the scullery because it was spoilt, producedhideous discords from the harmonium, and accidentally overturned a vaseof flowers, the water from which ran in a rill across the table anddribbled to the floor, where it formed a lake, the shape of which, afterthe lapse of a few minutes, he began to modify considerably with hisfoot, till it was like a map of England and Wales. 

"Well, Dick, you needn't have made quite such a mess. "

"Well, I needn't, I suppose. " He walked up to the blue dress, and lookedat it with a rigid gaze. Then an idea seemed to cross his brain. 

"Fancy. "

"Yes. "

"I thought you said you were going to wear your gray gown all dayto-morrow on your trip to Yalbury, and in the evening too, when I shallbe with you, and ask your father for you?"

"So I am. "

"And the blue one only on Sunday?"

"And the blue one Sunday. "

"Well, dear, I sha'n't be at Yalbury Sunday to see it. "

"No, but I shall walk to Longpuddle church in the afternoon with father, and such lots of people will be looking at me there, you know; and it didset so badly round the neck. "

"I never noticed it, and 'tis like nobody else would. "

"They might. "

"Then why not wear the gray one on Sunday as well? 'Tis as pretty as theblue one. "

"I might make the gray one do, certainly. But it isn't so good; itdidn't cost half so much as this one, and besides, it would be the same Iwore Saturday. "

"Then wear the striped one, dear. "

"I might. "

"Or the dark one. "

"Yes, I might; but I want to wear a fresh one they haven't seen. "

"I see, I see, " said Dick, in a voice in which the tones of love weredecidedly inconvenienced by a considerable emphasis, his thoughtsmeanwhile running as follows: "I, the man she loves best in the world, asshe says, am to understand that my poor half-holiday is to be lost, because she wants to wear on Sunday a gown there is not the slightestnecessity for wearing, simply, in fact, to appear more striking thanusual in the eyes of Longpuddle young men; and I not there, either. "

"Then there are three dresses good enough for my eyes, but neither isgood enough for the youths of Longpuddle, " he said. 

"No, not that exactly, Dick. Still, you see, I do want--to look prettyto them--there, that's honest! But I sha'n't be much longer. "

"How much?"

"A quarter of an hour. "

"Very well; I'll come in in a quarter of an hour. "

"Why go away?"

"I mid as well. "

He went out, walked down the road, and sat upon a gate. Here hemeditated and meditated, and the more he meditated the more decidedly didhe begin to fume, and the more positive was he that his time had beenscandalously trifled with by Miss Fancy Day--that, so far from being thesimple girl who had never had a sweetheart before, as she had solemnlyassured him time after time, she was, if not a flirt, a woman who had hadno end of admirers; a girl most certainly too anxious about her frocks; agirl, whose feelings, though warm, were not deep; a girl who cared agreat deal too much how she appeared in the eyes of other men. "What sheloves best in the world, " he thought, with an incipient spice of hisfather's grimness, "is her hair and complexion. What she loves nextbest, her gowns and hats; what she loves next best, myself, perhaps!"

Suffering great anguish at this disloyalty in himself and harshness tohis darling, yet disposed to persevere in it, a horribly cruel thoughtcrossed his mind. He would not call for her, as he had promised, at theend of a quarter of an hour! Yes, it would be a punishment she welldeserved. Although the best part of the afternoon had been wasted hewould go nutting as he had intended, and go by himself. 

He leaped over the gate, and pushed up the lane for nearly two miles, till a winding path called Snail-Creep sloped up a hill and entered ahazel copse by a hole like a rabbit's burrow. In he plunged, vanishedamong the bushes, and in a short time there was no sign of his existenceupon earth, save an occasional rustling of boughs and snapping of twigsin divers points of Grey's Wood. 

Never man nutted as Dick nutted that afternoon. He worked like a galleyslave. Half-hour after half-hour passed away, and still he gatheredwithout ceasing. At last, when the sun had set, and bunches of nutscould not be distinguished from the leaves which nourished them, heshouldered his bag, containing quite two pecks of the finest produce ofthe wood, about as much use to him as two pecks of stones from the road, strolled down the woodland track, crossed the highway and entered thehomeward lane, whistling as he went. 

Probably, Miss Fancy Day never before or after stood so low in Mr. Dewy'sopinion as on that afternoon. In fact, it is just possible that a fewmore blue dresses on the Longpuddle young men's account would haveclarified Dick's brain entirely, and made him once more a free man. 

But Venus had planned other developments, at any rate for the present. Cuckoo-Lane, the way he pursued, passed over a ridge which rose keenlyagainst the sky about fifty yards in his van. Here, upon the brightafter-glow about the horizon, was now visible an irregular shape, whichat first he conceived to be a bough standing a little beyond the line ofits neighbours. Then it seemed to move, and, as he advanced stillfurther, there was no doubt that it was a living being sitting in thebank, head bowed on hand. The grassy margin entirely prevented hisfootsteps from being heard, and it was not till he was close that thefigure recognized him. Up it sprang, and he was face to face with Fancy. 

"Dick, Dick! O, is it you, Dick!"

"Yes, Fancy, " said Dick, in a rather repentant tone, and lowering hisnuts. 

She ran up to him, flung her parasol on the grass, put her little headagainst his breast, and then there began a narrative, disjointed by sucha hysterical weeping as was never surpassed for intensity in the wholehistory of love. 

"O Dick, " she sobbed out, "where have you been away from me? O, I havesuffered agony, and thought you would never come any more! 'Tis cruel, Dick; no 'tisn't, it is justice! I've been walking miles and miles upand down Grey's Wood, trying to find you, till I was wearied and wornout, and I could walk no further, and had come back this far! O Dick, directly you were gone, I thought I had offended you and I put down thedress; 'tisn't finished now, and I never will finish, it, and I'll wearan old one Sunday! Yes, Dick, I will, because I don't care what I wearwhen you are not by my side--ha, you think I do, but I don't!--and I ranafter you, and I saw you go up Snail-Creep and not look back once, andthen you plunged in, and I after you; but I was too far behind. O, I didwish the horrid bushes had been cut down, so that I could see your dearshape again! And then I called out to you, and nobody answered, and Iwas afraid to call very loud, lest anybody else should hear me. Then Ikept wandering and wandering about, and it was dreadful misery, Dick. Andthen I shut my eyes and fell to picturing you looking at some otherwoman, very pretty and nice, but with no affection or truth in her atall, and then imagined you saying to yourself, 'Ah, she's as good asFancy, for Fancy told me a story, and was a flirt, and cared for herselfmore than me, so now I'll have this one for my sweetheart. ' O, youwon't, will you, Dick, for I do love you so!"

It is scarcely necessary to add that Dick renounced his freedom there andthen, and kissed her ten times over, and promised that no pretty woman ofthe kind alluded to should ever engross his thoughts; in short, thatthough he had been vexed with her, all such vexation was past, and thathenceforth and for ever it was simply Fancy or death for him. And thenthey set about proceeding homewards, very slowly on account of Fancy'sweariness, she leaning upon his shoulder, and in addition receivingsupport from his arm round her waist; though she had sufficientlyrecovered from her desperate condition to sing to him, 'Why are youwandering here, I pray?' during the latter part of their walk. Nor is itnecessary to describe in detail how the bag of nuts was quite forgottenuntil three days later, when it was found among the brambles and restoredempty to Mrs. Dewy, her initials being marked thereon in red cotton; andhow she puzzled herself till her head ached upon the question of how onearth her meal-bag could have got into Cuckoo-Lane. 

CHAPTER II: HONEY-TAKING, AND AFTERWARDS

Saturday evening saw Dick Dewy journeying on foot to Yalbury Wood, according to the arrangement with Fancy. 

The landscape being concave, at the going down of the sun everythingsuddenly assumed a uniform robe of shade. The evening advanced fromsunset to dusk long before Dick's arrival, and his progress during thelatter portion of his walk through the trees was indicated by the flutterof terrified birds that had been roosting over the path. And in crossingthe glades, masses of hot dry air, that had been formed on the hillsduring the day, greeted his cheeks alternately with clouds of damp nightair from the valleys. He reached the keeper-steward's house, where thegrass-plot and the garden in front appeared light and pale against theunbroken darkness of the grove from which he had emerged, and paused atthe garden gate. 

He had scarcely been there a minute when he beheld a sort of processionadvancing from the door in his front. It consisted first of Enoch thetrapper, carrying a spade on his shoulder and a lantern dangling in hishand; then came Mrs. Day, the light of the lantern revealing that shebore in her arms curious objects about a foot long, in the form of Latincrosses (made of lath and brown paper dipped in brimstone--called matchesby bee-masters); next came Miss Day, with a shawl thrown over her head;and behind all, in the gloom, Mr. Frederic Shiner. 

Dick, in his consternation at finding Shiner present, was at a loss howto proceed, and retired under a tree to collect his thoughts. 

"Here I be, Enoch, " said a voice; and the procession advancing farther, the lantern's rays illuminated the figure of Geoffrey, awaiting theirarrival beside a row of bee-hives, in front of the path. Taking thespade from Enoch, he proceeded to dig two holes in the earth beside thehives, the others standing round in a circle, except Mrs. Day, whodeposited her matches in the fork of an apple-tree and returned to thehouse. The party remaining were now lit up in front by the lantern intheir midst, their shadows radiating each way upon the garden-plot likethe spokes of a wheel. An apparent embarrassment of Fancy at thepresence of Shiner caused a silence in the assembly, during which thepreliminaries of execution were arranged, the matches fixed, the stakekindled, the two hives placed over the two holes, and the earth stoppedround the edges. Geoffrey then stood erect, and rather more, tostraighten his backbone after the digging. 

"They were a peculiar family, " said Mr. Shiner, regarding the hivesreflectively. 

Geoffrey nodded. 

"Those holes will be the grave of thousands!" said Fancy. "I think 'tisrather a cruel thing to do. "

Her father shook his head. "No, " he said, tapping the hives to shake thedead bees from their cells, "if you suffocate 'em this way, they only dieonce: if you fumigate 'em in the new way, they come to life again, anddie o' starvation; so the pangs o' death be twice upon 'em. "

"I incline to Fancy's notion, " said Mr. Shiner, laughing lightly. 

"The proper way to take honey, so that the bees be neither starved normurdered, is a puzzling matter, " said the keeper steadily. 

"I should like never to take it from them, " said Fancy. 

"But 'tis the money, " said Enoch musingly. "For without money man is ashadder!"

The lantern-light had disturbed many bees that had escaped from hivesdestroyed some days earlier, and, demoralized by affliction, were nowgetting a living as marauders about the doors of other hives. Severalflew round the head and neck of Geoffrey; then darted upon him with anirritated bizz. 

Enoch threw down the lantern, and ran off and pushed his head into acurrant bush; Fancy scudded up the path; and Mr. Shiner floundered awayhelter-skelter among the cabbages. Geoffrey stood his ground, unmovedand firm as a rock. Fancy was the first to return, followed by Enochpicking up the lantern. Mr. Shiner still remained invisible. 

"Have the craters stung ye?" said Enoch to Geoffrey. 

"No, not much--on'y a little here and there, " he said with leisurelysolemnity, shaking one bee out of his shirt sleeve, pulling another fromamong his hair, and two or three more from his neck. The rest looked onduring this proceeding with a complacent sense of being out of it, --muchas a European nation in a state of internal commotion is watched by itsneighbours. 

"Are those all of them, father?" said Fancy, when Geoffrey had pulledaway five. 

"Almost all, --though I feel one or two more sticking into my shoulder andside. Ah! there's another just begun again upon my backbone. You livelyyoung mortals, how did you get inside there? However, they can't stingme many times more, poor things, for they must be getting weak. They midas well stay in me till bedtime now, I suppose. "

As he himself was the only person affected by this arrangement, it seemedsatisfactory enough; and after a noise of feet kicking against cabbagesin a blundering progress among them, the voice of Mr. Shiner was heardfrom the darkness in that direction. 

"Is all quite safe again?"

No answer being returned to this query, he apparently assumed that hemight venture forth, and gradually drew near the lantern again. Thehives were now removed from their position over the holes, one beinghanded to Enoch to carry indoors, and one being taken by Geoffreyhimself. 

"Bring hither the lantern, Fancy: the spade can bide. "

Geoffrey and Enoch then went towards the house, leaving Shiner and Fancystanding side by side on the garden-plot. 

"Allow me, " said Shiner, stooping for the lantern and seizing it at thesame time with Fancy. 

"I can carry it, " said Fancy, religiously repressing all inclination totrifle. She had thoroughly considered that subject after the tearfulexplanation of the bird-catching adventure to Dick, and had decided thatit would be dishonest in her, as an engaged young woman, to trifle withmen's eyes and hands any more. Finding that Shiner still retained hishold of the lantern, she relinquished it, and he, having found herretaining it, also let go. The lantern fell, and was extinguished. Fancymoved on. 

"Where is the path?" said Mr. Shiner. 

"Here, " said Fancy. "Your eyes will get used to the dark in a minute ortwo. "

"Till that time will ye lend me your hand?" Fancy gave him the extremetips of her fingers, and they stepped from the plot into the path. 

"You don't accept attentions very freely. "

"It depends upon who offers them. "

"A fellow like me, for instance. " A dead silence. 

"Well, what do you say, Missie?"

"It then depends upon how they are offered. "

"Not wildly, and yet not careless-like; not purposely, and yet not bychance; not too quick nor yet too slow. "

"How then?" said Fancy. 

"Coolly and practically, " he said. "How would that kind of love betaken?"

"Not anxiously, and yet not indifferently; neither blushing nor pale; norreligiously nor yet quite wickedly. "

"Well, how?"

"Not at all. "

* * * * *

Geoffrey Day's storehouse at the back of his dwelling was hung withbunches of dried horehound, mint, and sage; brown-paper bags of thyme andlavender; and long ropes of clean onions. On shelves were spread largered and yellow apples, and choice selections of early potatoes for seednext year;--vulgar crowds of commoner kind lying beneath in heaps. A fewempty beehives were clustered around a nail in one corner, under whichstood two or three barrels of new cider of the first crop, each bubblingand squirting forth from the yet open bunghole. 

Fancy was now kneeling beside the two inverted hives, one of which restedagainst her lap, for convenience in operating upon the contents. Shethrust her sleeves above her elbows, and inserted her small pink handedgewise between each white lobe of honeycomb, performing the act soadroitly and gently as not to unseal a single cell. Then cracking thepiece off at the crown of the hive by a slight backward and forwardmovement, she lifted each portion as it was loosened into a large blueplatter, placed on a bench at her side. 

"Bother these little mortals!" said Geoffrey, who was holding the lightto her, and giving his back an uneasy twist. "I really think I may aswell go indoors and take 'em out, poor things! for they won't let mealone. There's two a stinging wi' all their might now. I'm sure Iwonder their strength can last so long. "

"All right, friend; I'll hold the candle whilst you are gone, " said Mr. Shiner, leisurely taking the light, and allowing Geoffrey to depart, which he did with his usual long paces. 

He could hardly have gone round to the house-door when other footstepswere heard approaching the outbuilding; the tip of a finger appeared inthe hole through which the wood latch was lifted, and Dick Dewy came in, having been all this time walking up and down the wood, vainly waitingfor Shiner's departure. 

Fancy looked up and welcomed him rather confusedly. Shiner grasped thecandlestick more firmly, and, lest doing this in silence should not implyto Dick with sufficient force that he was quite at home and cool, he sanginvincibly--

 "'King Arthur he had three sons. '"

"Father here?" said Dick. 

"Indoors, I think, " said Fancy, looking pleasantly at him. 

Dick surveyed the scene, and did not seem inclined to hurry off just atthat moment. Shiner went on singing--

 "'The miller was drown'd in his pond, The weaver was hung in his yarn, And the d--- ran away with the little tail-or, With the broadcloth under his arm. '"

"That's a terrible crippled rhyme, if that's your rhyme!" said Dick, witha grain of superciliousness in his tone. 

"It's no use your complaining to me about the rhyme!" said Mr. Shiner. "You must go to the man that made it. "

Fancy by this time had acquired confidence. 

"Taste a bit, Mr. Dewy, " she said, holding up to him a small circularpiece of honeycomb that had been the last in the row of layers, remainingstill on her knees and flinging back her head to look in his face; "andthen I'll taste a bit too. "

"And I, if you please, " said Mr. Shiner. Nevertheless the farmer lookedsuperior, as if he could even now hardly join the trifling from veryimportance of station; and after receiving the honeycomb from Fancy, heturned it over in his hand till the cells began to be crushed, and theliquid honey ran down from his fingers in a thin string. 

Suddenly a faint cry from Fancy caused them to gaze at her. 

"What's the matter, dear?" said Dick. 

"It is nothing, but O-o! a bee has stung the inside of my lip! He was inone of the cells I was eating!"

"We must keep down the swelling, or it may be serious!" said Shiner, stepping up and kneeling beside her. "Let me see it. "

"No, no!"

"Just let me see it, " said Dick, kneeling on the other side: and aftersome hesitation she pressed down her lip with one finger to show theplace. "O, I hope 'twill soon be better! I don't mind a sting inordinary places, but it is so bad upon your lip, " she added with tears inher eyes, and writhing a little from the pain. 

Shiner held the light above his head and pushed his face close toFancy's, as if the lip had been shown exclusively to himself, upon whichDick pushed closer, as if Shiner were not there at all. 

"It is swelling, " said Dick to her right aspect. 

"It isn't swelling, " said Shiner to her left aspect. 

"Is it dangerous on the lip?" cried Fancy. "I know it is dangerous onthe tongue. "

"O no, not dangerous!" answered Dick. 

"Rather dangerous, " had answered Shiner simultaneously. 

"I must try to bear it!" said Fancy, turning again to the hives. 

"Hartshorn-and-oil is a good thing to put to it, Miss Day, " said Shinerwith great concern. 

"Sweet-oil-and-hartshorn I've found to be a good thing to cure stings, Miss Day, " said Dick with greater concern. 

"We have some mixed indoors; would you kindly run and get it for me?" shesaid. 

Now, whether by inadvertence, or whether by mischievous intention, theindividuality of the you was so carelessly denoted that both Dick andShiner sprang to their feet like twin acrobats, and marched abreast tothe door; both seized the latch and lifted it, and continued marching on, shoulder to shoulder, in the same manner to the dwelling-house. Not onlyso, but entering the room, they marched as before straight up to Mrs. Day's chair, letting the door in the oak partition slam so forcibly, thatthe rows of pewter on the dresser rang like a bell. 

"Mrs. Day, Fancy has stung her lip, and wants you to give me thehartshorn, please, " said Mr. Shiner, very close to Mrs. Day's face. 

"O, Mrs. Day, Fancy has asked me to bring out the hartshorn, please, because she has stung her lip!" said Dick, a little closer to Mrs. Day'sface. 

"Well, men alive! that's no reason why you should eat me, I suppose!"said Mrs. Day, drawing back. 

She searched in the corner-cupboard, produced the bottle, and began todust the cork, the rim, and every other part very carefully, Dick's handand Shiner's hand waiting side by side. 

"Which is head man?" said Mrs. Day. "Now, don't come mumbudgeting soclose again. Which is head man?"

Neither spoke; and the bottle was inclined towards Shiner. Shiner, as ahigh-class man, would not look in the least triumphant, and turned to gooff with it as Geoffrey came downstairs after the search in his linen forconcealed bees. 

"O--that you, Master Dewy?"

Dick assured the keeper that it was; and the young man then determinedupon a bold stroke for the attainment of his end, forgetting that theworst of bold strokes is the disastrous consequences they involve if theyfail. 

"I've come on purpose to speak to you very particular, Mr. Day, " he said, with a crushing emphasis intended for the ears of Mr. Shiner, who wasvanishing round the door-post at that moment. 

"Well, I've been forced to go upstairs and unrind myself, and shake somebees out o' me" said Geoffrey, walking slowly towards the open door, andstanding on the threshold. "The young rascals got into my shirt andwouldn't be quiet nohow. "

Dick followed him to the door. 

"I've come to speak a word to you, " he repeated, looking out at the palemist creeping up from the gloom of the valley. "You may perhaps guesswhat it is about. "

The keeper lowered his hands into the depths of his pockets, twirled hiseyes, balanced himself on his toes, looked as perpendicularly downward asif his glance were a plumb-line, then horizontally, collecting togetherthe cracks that lay about his face till they were all in theneighbourhood of his eyes. 

"Maybe I don't know, " he replied. 

Dick said nothing; and the stillness was disturbed only by some smallbird that was being killed by an owl in the adjoining wood, whose crypassed into the silence without mingling with it. 

"I've left my hat up in chammer, " said Geoffrey; "wait while I step upand get en. "

"I'll be in the garden, " said Dick. 

He went round by a side wicket into the garden, and Geoffrey wentupstairs. It was the custom in Mellstock and its vicinity to discussmatters of pleasure and ordinary business inside the house, and toreserve the garden for very important affairs: a custom which, as issupposed, originated in the desirability of getting away at such timesfrom the other members of the family when there was only one room forliving in, though it was now quite as frequently practised by those whosuffered from no such limitation to the size of their domiciles. 

The head-keeper's form appeared in the dusky garden, and Dick walkedtowards him. The elder paused and leant over the rail of a piggery thatstood on the left of the path, upon which Dick did the same; and theyboth contemplated a whitish shadowy shape that was moving about andgrunting among the straw of the interior. 

"I've come to ask for Fancy, " said Dick. 

"I'd as lief you hadn't. "

"Why should that be, Mr. Day?"

"Because it makes me say that you've come to ask what ye be'n't likely tohave. Have ye come for anything else?"

"Nothing. "

"Then I'll just tell 'ee you've come on a very foolish errand. D'ye knowwhat her mother was?"

"No. "

"A teacher in a landed family's nursery, who was foolish enough to marrythe keeper of the same establishment; for I was only a keeper then, though now I've a dozen other irons in the fire as steward here for mylord, what with the timber sales and the yearly fellings, and the graveland sand sales and one thing and 'tother. However, d'ye think Fancypicked up her good manners, the smooth turn of her tongue, her musicalnotes, and her knowledge of books, in a homely hole like this?"

"No. "

"D'ye know where?"

"No. "

"Well, when I went a-wandering after her mother's death, she lived withher aunt, who kept a boarding-school, till her aunt married LawyerGreen--a man as sharp as a needle--and the school was broke up. Did yeknow that then she went to the training-school, and that her name stoodfirst among the Queen's scholars of her year?"

"I've heard so. "

"And that when she sat for her certificate as Government teacher, she hadthe highest of the first class?"

"Yes. "

"Well, and do ye know what I live in such a miserly way for when I've gotenough to do without it, and why I make her work as a schoolmistressinstead of living here?"

"No. "

"That if any gentleman, who sees her to be his equal in polish, shouldwant to marry her, and she want to marry him, he sha'n't be superior toher in pocket. Now do ye think after this that you be good enough forher?"

"No. "

"Then good-night t'ee, Master Dewy. "

"Good-night, Mr. Day. "

Modest Dick's reply had faltered upon his tongue, and he turned awaywondering at his presumption in asking for a woman whom he had seen fromthe beginning to be so superior to him. 

CHAPTER III: FANCY IN THE RAIN

The next scene is a tempestuous afternoon in the following month, andFancy Day is discovered walking from her father's home towards Mellstock. 

A single vast gray cloud covered the country, from which the small rainand mist had just begun to blow down in wavy sheets, alternately thickand thin. The trees of the fields and plantations writhed like miserablemen as the air wound its way swiftly among them: the lowest portions oftheir trunks, that had hardly ever been known to move, were visiblyrocked by the fiercer gusts, distressing the mind by its painfulunwontedness, as when a strong man is seen to shed tears. Low-hangingboughs went up and down; high and erect boughs went to and fro; theblasts being so irregular, and divided into so many cross-currents, thatneighbouring branches of the same tree swept the skies in independentmotions, crossed each other, or became entangled. Across the open spacesflew flocks of green and yellowish leaves, which, after travelling a longdistance from their parent trees, reached the ground, and lay there withtheir under-sides upward. 

As the rain and wind increased, and Fancy's bonnet-ribbons leapt more andmore snappishly against her chin, she paused on entering Mellstock Laneto consider her latitude, and the distance to a place of shelter. Thenearest house was Elizabeth Endorfield's, in Higher Mellstock, whosecottage and garden stood not far from the junction of that hamlet withthe road she followed. Fancy hastened onward, and in five minutesentered a gate, which shed upon her toes a flood of water-drops as sheopened it. 

"Come in, chiel!" a voice exclaimed, before Fancy had knocked: apromptness that would have surprised her had she not known that Mrs. Endorfield was an exceedingly and exceptionally sharp woman in the use ofher eyes and ears. 

Fancy went in and sat down. Elizabeth was paring potatoes for herhusband's supper. 

Scrape, scrape, scrape; then a toss, and splash went a potato into abucket of water. 

Now, as Fancy listlessly noted these proceedings of the dame, she beganto reconsider an old subject that lay uppermost in her heart. Since theinterview between her father and Dick, the days had been melancholy daysfor her. Geoffrey's firm opposition to the notion of Dick as a son-in-law was more than she had expected. She had frequently seen her loversince that time, it is true, and had loved him more for the oppositionthan she would have otherwise dreamt of doing--which was a happiness of acertain kind. Yet, though love is thus an end in itself, it must bebelieved to be the means to another end if it is to assume the rosy huesof an unalloyed pleasure. And such a belief Fancy and Dick wereemphatically denied just now. 

Elizabeth Endorfield had a repute among women which was in its naturesomething between distinction and notoriety. It was founded on thefollowing items of character. She was shrewd and penetrating; her housestood in a lonely place; she never went to church; she wore a red cloak;she always retained her bonnet indoors and she had a pointed chin. Thusfar her attributes were distinctly Satanic; and those who looked nofurther called her, in plain terms, a witch. But she was not gaunt, norugly in the upper part of her face, nor particularly strange in manner;so that, when her more intimate acquaintances spoke of her the term wassoftened, and she became simply a Deep Body, who was as long-headed asshe was high. It may be stated that Elizabeth belonged to a class ofsuspects who were gradually losing their mysterious characteristics underthe administration of the young vicar; though, during the long reign ofMr. Grinham, the parish of Mellstock had proved extremely favourable tothe growth of witches. 

While Fancy was revolving all this in her mind, and putting it to herselfwhether it was worth while to tell her troubles to Elizabeth, and ask heradvice in getting out of them, the witch spoke. 

"You be down--proper down, " she said suddenly, dropping another potatointo the bucket. 

Fancy took no notice. 

"About your young man. "

Fancy reddened. Elizabeth seemed to be watching her thoughts. Really, one would almost think she must have the powers people ascribed to her. 

"Father not in the humour for't, hey?" Another potato was finished andflung in. "Ah, I know about it. Little birds tell me things that peopledon't dream of my knowing. "

Fancy was desperate about Dick, and here was a chance--O, such a wickedchance--of getting help; and what was goodness beside love!

"I wish you'd tell me how to put him in the humour for it?" she said. 

"That I could soon do, " said the witch quietly. 

"Really? O, do; anyhow--I don't care--so that it is done! How could Ido it, Mrs. Endorfield?"

"Nothing so mighty wonderful in it. "

"Well, but how?"

"By witchery, of course!" said Elizabeth. 

"No!" said Fancy. 

"'Tis, I assure ye. Didn't you ever hear I was a witch?"

"Well, " hesitated Fancy, "I have heard you called so. "

"And you believed it?"

"I can't say that I did exactly believe it, for 'tis very horrible andwicked; but, O, how I do wish it was possible for you to be one!"

"So I am. And I'll tell you how to bewitch your father to let you marryDick Dewy. "

"Will it hurt him, poor thing?"

"Hurt who?"

"Father. "

"No; the charm is worked by common sense, and the spell can only be brokeby your acting stupidly. "

Fancy looked rather perplexed, and Elizabeth went on:

 "This fear of Lizz--whatever 'tis-- By great and small; She makes pretence to common sense, And that's all. 

"You must do it like this. " The witch laid down her knife and potato, and then poured into Fancy's ear a long and detailed list of directions, glancing up from the corner of her eye into Fancy's face with anexpression of sinister humour. Fancy's face brightened, clouded, roseand sank, as the narrative proceeded. "There, " said Elizabeth at length, stooping for the knife and another potato, "do that, and you'll have himby-long and by-late, my dear. "

"And do it I will!" said Fancy. 

She then turned her attention to the external world once more. The raincontinued as usual, but the wind had abated considerably during thediscourse. Judging that it was now possible to keep an umbrella erect, she pulled her hood again over her bonnet, bade the witch good-bye, andwent her way. 

CHAPTER IV: THE SPELL

Mrs. Endorfield's advice was duly followed. 

"I be proper sorry that your daughter isn't so well as she might be, "said a Mellstock man to Geoffrey one morning. 

"But is there anything in it?" said Geoffrey uneasily, as he shifted hishat to the right. "I can't understand the report. She didn't complainto me a bit when I saw her. "

"No appetite at all, they say. "

Geoffrey crossed to Mellstock and called at the school that afternoon. Fancy welcomed him as usual, and asked him to stay and take tea with her. 

"I be'n't much for tea, this time o' day, " he said, but stayed. 

During the meal he watched her narrowly. And to his great consternationdiscovered the following unprecedented change in the healthy girl--thatshe cut herself only a diaphanous slice of bread-and-butter, and, layingit on her plate, passed the meal-time in breaking it into pieces, buteating no more than about one-tenth of the slice. Geoffrey hoped shewould say something about Dick, and finish up by weeping, as she had doneafter the decision against him a few days subsequent to the interview inthe garden. But nothing was said, and in due time Geoffrey departedagain for Yalbury Wood. 

"'Tis to be hoped poor Miss Fancy will be able to keep on her school, "said Geoffrey's man Enoch to Geoffrey the following week, as they wereshovelling up ant-hills in the wood. 

Geoffrey stuck in the shovel, swept seven or eight ants from his sleeve, and killed another that was prowling round his ear, then lookedperpendicularly into the earth as usual, waiting for Enoch to say more. "Well, why shouldn't she?" said the keeper at last. 

"The baker told me yesterday, " continued Enoch, shaking out another emmetthat had run merrily up his thigh, "that the bread he've left at thatthere school-house this last month would starve any mouse in the threecreations; that 'twould so! And afterwards I had a pint o' small down atMorrs's, and there I heard more. "

"What might that ha' been?"

"That she used to have a pound o' the best rolled butter a week, regularas clockwork, from Dairyman Viney's for herself, as well as just so muchsalted for the helping girl, and the 'ooman she calls in; but now thesame quantity d'last her three weeks, and then 'tis thoughted she throwsit away sour. "

"Finish doing the emmets, and carry the bag home-along. " The keeperresumed his gun, tucked it under his arm, and went on without whistlingto the dogs, who however followed, with a bearing meant to imply thatthey did not expect any such attentions when their master was reflecting. 

On Saturday morning a note came from Fancy. He was not to trouble aboutsending her the couple of rabbits, as was intended, because she fearedshe should not want them. Later in the day Geoffrey went to Casterbridgeand called upon the butcher who served Fancy with fresh meat, which wasput down to her father's account. 

"I've called to pay up our little bill, Neighbour Haylock, and you cangie me the chiel's account at the same time. "

Mr. Haylock turned round three quarters of a circle in the midst of aheap of joints, altered the expression of his face from meat to money, went into a little office consisting only of a door and a window, lookedvery vigorously into a book which possessed length but no breadth; andthen, seizing a piece of paper and scribbling thereupon, handed the bill. 

Probably it was the first time in the history of commercial transactionsthat the quality of shortness in a butcher's bill was a cause oftribulation to the debtor. "Why, this isn't all she've had in a wholemonth!" said Geoffrey. 

"Every mossel, " said the butcher--"(now, Dan, take that leg and shoulderto Mrs. White's, and this eleven pound here to Mr. Martin's)--you've beentreating her to smaller joints lately, to my thinking, Mr. Day?"

"Only two or three little scram rabbits this last week, as I am alive--Iwish I had!"

"Well, my wife said to me--(Dan! not too much, not too much on that trayat a time; better go twice)--my wife said to me as she posted up thebooks: she says, 'Miss Day must have been affronted this summer duringthat hot muggy weather that spolit so much for us; for depend upon't, 'she says, 'she've been trying John Grimmett unknown to us: see heraccount else. ' 'Tis little, of course, at the best of times, being onlyfor one, but now 'tis next kin to nothing. "

"I'll inquire, " said Geoffrey despondingly. 

He returned by way of Mellstock, and called upon Fancy, in fulfilment ofa promise. It being Saturday, the children were enjoying a holiday, andon entering the residence Fancy was nowhere to be seen. Nan, thecharwoman, was sweeping the kitchen. 

"Where's my da'ter?" said the keeper. 

"Well, you see she was tired with the week's teaching, and this morningshe said, 'Nan, I sha'n't get up till the evening. ' You see, Mr. Day, ifpeople don't eat, they can't work; and as she've gie'd up eating, shemust gie up working. "

"Have ye carried up any dinner to her?"

"No; she don't want any. There, we all know that such things don't comewithout good reason--not that I wish to say anything about a brokenheart, or anything of the kind. "

Geoffrey's own heart felt inconveniently large just then. He went to thestaircase and ascended to his daughter's door. 

"Fancy!"

"Come in, father. "

To see a person in bed from any cause whatever, on a fine afternoon, isdepressing enough; and here was his only child Fancy, not only in bed, but looking very pale. Geoffrey was visibly disturbed. 

"Fancy, I didn't expect to see thee here, chiel, " he said. "What's thematter?"

"I'm not well, father. "

"How's that?"

"Because I think of things. "

"What things can you have to think o' so mortal much?"

"You know, father. "

"You think I've been cruel to thee in saying that that penniless Dick o'thine sha'n't marry thee, I suppose?"

No answer. 

"Well, you know, Fancy, I do it for the best, and he isn't good enoughfor thee. You know that well enough. " Here he again looked at her asshe lay. "Well, Fancy, I can't let my only chiel die; and if you can'tlive without en, you must ha' en, I suppose. "

"O, I don't want him like that; all against your will, and everything sodisobedient!" sighed the invalid. 

"No, no, 'tisn't against my will. My wish is, now I d'see how 'tishurten thee to live without en, that he shall marry thee as soon as we'veconsidered a little. That's my wish flat and plain, Fancy. There, nevercry, my little maid! You ought to ha' cried afore; no need o' crying now'tis all over. Well, howsoever, try to step over and see me and mother-law to-morrow, and ha' a bit of dinner wi' us. "

"And--Dick too?"

"Ay, Dick too, 'far's I know. "

"And when do you think you'll have considered, father, and he may marryme?" she coaxed. 

"Well, there, say next Midsummer; that's not a day too long to wait. "

On leaving the school Geoffrey went to the tranter's. Old William openedthe door. 

"Is your grandson Dick in 'ithin, William?"

"No, not just now, Mr. Day. Though he've been at home a good deallately. "

"O, how's that?"

"What wi' one thing, and what wi' t'other, he's all in a mope, as mightbe said. Don't seem the feller he used to. Ay, 'a will sit studding andthinking as if 'a were going to turn chapel-member, and then do nothingbut traypse and wamble about. Used to be such a chatty boy, too, Dickdid; and now 'a don't speak at all. But won't ye step inside? Reubenwill be home soon, 'a b'lieve. "

"No, thank you, I can't stay now. Will ye just ask Dick if he'll do methe kindness to step over to Yalbury to-morrow with my da'ter Fancy, ifshe's well enough? I don't like her to come by herself, now she's not soterrible topping in health. "

"So I've heard. Ay, sure, I'll tell him without fail. "

CHAPTER V: AFTER GAINING HER POINT

The visit to Geoffrey passed off as delightfully as a visit might havebeen expected to pass off when it was the first day of smooth experiencein a hitherto obstructed love-course. And then came a series of severalhappy days, of the same undisturbed serenity. Dick could court her whenhe chose; stay away when he chose, --which was never; walk with her bywinding streams and waterfalls and autumn scenery till dews and twilightsent them home. And thus they drew near the day of the HarvestThanksgiving, which was also the time chosen for opening the organ inMellstock Church. 

It chanced that Dick on that very day was called away from Mellstock. Ayoung acquaintance had died of consumption at Charmley, a neighbouringvillage, on the previous Monday, and Dick, in fulfilment of along-standing promise, was to assist in carrying him to the grave. Whenon Tuesday, Dick went towards the school to acquaint Fancy with the fact, it is difficult to say whether his own disappointment at being denied thesight of her triumphant debut as organist, was greater than his vexationthat his pet should on this great occasion be deprived of the pleasure ofhis presence. However, the intelligence was communicated. She bore itas she best could, not without many expressions of regret, andconvictions that her performance would be nothing to her now. 

Just before eleven o'clock on Sunday he set out upon his sad errand. Thefuneral was to be immediately after the morning service, and as therewere four good miles to walk, driving being inconvenient, it becamenecessary to start comparatively early. Half an hour later wouldcertainly have answered his purpose quite as well, yet at the last momentnothing would content his ardent mind but that he must go a mile out ofhis way in the direction of the school, in the hope of getting a glimpseof his Love as she started for church. 

Striking, therefore, into the lane towards the school, instead of acrossthe ewelease direct to Charmley, he arrived opposite her door as hisgoddess emerged. 

If ever a woman looked a divinity, Fancy Day appeared one that morning asshe floated down those school steps, in the form of a nebulous collectionof colours inclining to blue. With an audacity unparalleled in the wholehistory of village-school-mistresses at this date--partly owing, nodoubt, to papa's respectable accumulation of cash, which rendered herprofession not altogether one of necessity--she had actually donned a hatand feather, and lowered her hitherto plainly looped-up hair, which nowfell about her shoulders in a profusion of curls. Poor Dick wasastonished: he had never seen her look so distractingly beautiful before, save on Christmas-eve, when her hair was in the same luxuriant conditionof freedom. But his first burst of delighted surprise was followed byless comfortable feelings, as soon as his brain recovered its power tothink. 

Fancy had blushed;--was it with confusion? She had also involuntarilypressed back her curls. She had not expected him. 

"Fancy, you didn't know me for a moment in my funeral clothes, did you?"

"Good-morning, Dick--no, really, I didn't know you for an instant in sucha sad suit. "

He looked again at the gay tresses and hat. "You've never dressed socharming before, dearest. "

"I like to hear you praise me in that way, Dick, " she said, smilingarchly. "It is meat and drink to a woman. Do I look nice really?"

"Fie! you know it. Did you remember, --I mean didn't you remember aboutmy going away to-day?"

"Well, yes, I did, Dick; but, you know, I wanted to look well;--forgiveme. "

"Yes, darling; yes, of course, --there's nothing to forgive. No, I wasonly thinking that when we talked on Tuesday and Wednesday and Thursdayand Friday about my absence to-day, and I was so sorry for it, you said, Fancy, so were you sorry, and almost cried, and said it would be nopleasure to you to be the attraction of the church to-day, since I couldnot be there. "

"My dear one, neither will it be so much pleasure to me . . . But I dotake a little delight in my life, I suppose, " she pouted. 

"Apart from mine?"

She looked at him with perplexed eyes. "I know you are vexed with me, Dick, and it is because the first Sunday I have curls and a hat andfeather since I have been here happens to be the very day you are awayand won't be with me. Yes, say it is, for that is it! And you thinkthat all this week I ought to have remembered you wouldn't be here to-day, and not have cared to be better dressed than usual. Yes, you do, Dick, and it is rather unkind!"

"No, no, " said Dick earnestly and simply, "I didn't think so badly of youas that. I only thought that--if you had been going away, I shouldn'thave tried new attractions for the eyes of other people. But then ofcourse you and I are different, naturally. "

"Well, perhaps we are. "

"Whatever will the vicar say, Fancy?"

"I don't fear what he says in the least!" she answered proudly. "But hewon't say anything of the sort you think. No, no. "

"He can hardly have conscience to, indeed. "

"Now come, you say, Dick, that you quite forgive me, for I must go, " shesaid with sudden gaiety, and skipped backwards into the porch. "Comehere, sir;--say you forgive me, and then you shall kiss me;--you neverhave yet when I have worn curls, you know. Yes, just where you want toso much, --yes, you may!"

Dick followed her into the inner corner, where he was probably not slowin availing himself of the privilege offered. 

"Now that's a treat for you, isn't it?" she continued. "Good-bye, or Ishall be late. Come and see me to-morrow: you'll be tired to-night. "

Thus they parted, and Fancy proceeded to the church. The organ stood onone side of the chancel, close to and under the immediate eye of thevicar when he was in the pulpit, and also in full view of thecongregation. Here she sat down, for the first time in such aconspicuous position, her seat having previously been in a remote spot inthe aisle. 

"Good heavens--disgraceful! Curls and a hat and feather!" said thedaughters of the small gentry, who had either only curly hair without ahat and feather, or a hat and feather without curly hair. "A bonnet forchurch always, " said sober matrons. 

That Mr. Maybold was conscious of her presence close beside him duringthe sermon; that he was not at all angry at her development of costume;that he admired her, she perceived. But she did not see that he lovedher during that sermon-time as he had never loved a woman before; thather proximity was a strange delight to him; and that he gloried in hermusical success that morning in a spirit quite beyond a mere cleric'sglory at the inauguration of a new order of things. 

The old choir, with humbled hearts, no longer took their seats in thegallery as heretofore (which was now given up to the school-children whowere not singers, and a pupil-teacher), but were scattered about withtheir wives in different parts of the church. Having nothing to do withconducting the service for almost the first time in their lives, they allfelt awkward, out of place, abashed, and inconvenienced by their hands. The tranter had proposed that they should stay away to-day and gonutting, but grandfather William would not hear of such a thing for amoment. "No, " he replied reproachfully, and quoted a verse: "Though thishas come upon us, let not our hearts be turned back, or our steps go outof the way. "

So they stood and watched the curls of hair trailing down the back of thesuccessful rival, and the waving of her feather, as she swayed her head. After a few timid notes and uncertain touches her playing became markedlycorrect, and towards the end full and free. But, whether from prejudiceor unbiassed judgment, the venerable body of musicians could not helpthinking that the simpler notes they had been wont to bring forth weremore in keeping with the simplicity of their old church than the crowdedchords and interludes it was her pleasure to produce. 

CHAPTER VI: INTO TEMPTATION

The day was done, and Fancy was again in the school-house. About fiveo'clock it began to rain, and in rather a dull frame of mind she wanderedinto the schoolroom, for want of something better to do. She wasthinking--of her lover Dick Dewy? Not precisely. Of how weary she wasof living alone: how unbearable it would be to return to Yalbury underthe rule of her strange-tempered step-mother; that it was far better tobe married to anybody than do that; that eight or nine long months hadyet to be lived through ere the wedding could take place. 

At the side of the room were high windows of Ham-hill stone, upon eithersill of which she could sit by first mounting a desk and using it as afootstool. As the evening advanced here she perched herself, as was hercustom on such wet and gloomy occasions, put on a light shawl and bonnet, opened the window, and looked out at the rain. 

The window overlooked a field called the Grove, and it was the positionfrom which she used to survey the crown of Dick's passing hat in theearly days of their acquaintance and meetings. Not a living soul was nowvisible anywhere; the rain kept all people indoors who were not forcedabroad by necessity, and necessity was less importunate on Sundays thanduring the week. 

Sitting here and thinking again--of her lover, or of the sensation shehad created at church that day?--well, it is unknown--thinking andthinking she saw a dark masculine figure arising into distinctness at thefurther end of the Grove--a man without an umbrella. Nearer and nearerhe came, and she perceived that he was in deep mourning, and then that itwas Dick. Yes, in the fondness and foolishness of his young heart, afterwalking four miles, in a drizzling rain without overcoat or umbrella, andin face of a remark from his love that he was not to come because hewould be tired, he had made it his business to wander this mile out ofhis way again, from sheer wish of spending ten minutes in her presence. 

"O Dick, how wet you are!" she said, as he drew up under the window. "Why, your coat shines as if it had been varnished, and your hat--mygoodness, there's a streaming hat!"

"O, I don't mind, darling!" said Dick cheerfully. "Wet never hurts me, though I am rather sorry for my best clothes. However, it couldn't behelped; we lent all the umbrellas to the women. I don't know when Ishall get mine back!"

"And look, there's a nasty patch of something just on your shoulder. "

"Ah, that's japanning; it rubbed off the clamps of poor Jack's coffinwhen we lowered him from our shoulders upon the bier! I don't care aboutthat, for 'twas the last deed I could do for him; and 'tis hard if youcan't afford a coat for an old friend. "

Fancy put her hand to her mouth for half a minute. Underneath the palmof that little hand there existed for that half-minute a little yawn. 

"Dick, I don't like you to stand there in the wet. And you mustn't sitdown. Go home and change your things. Don't stay another minute. "

"One kiss after coming so far, " he pleaded. 

"If I can reach, then. "

He looked rather disappointed at not being invited round to the door. Shetwisted from her seated position and bent herself downwards, but not evenby standing on the plinth was it possible for Dick to get his lips intocontact with hers as she held them. By great exertion she might havereached a little lower; but then she would have exposed her head to therain. 

"Never mind, Dick; kiss my hand, " she said, flinging it down to him. "Now, good-bye. "

"Good-bye. "

He walked slowly away, turning and turning again to look at her till hewas out of sight. During the retreat she said to herself, almostinvoluntarily, and still conscious of that morning's triumph--"I likeDick, and I love him; but how plain and sorry a man looks in the rain, with no umbrella, and wet through!"

As he vanished, she made as if to descend from her seat; but glancing inthe other direction she saw another form coming along the same track. Itwas also that of a man. He, too, was in black from top to toe; but hecarried an umbrella. 

He drew nearer, and the direction of the rain caused him so to slant hisumbrella that from her height above the ground his head was invisible, asshe was also to him. He passed in due time directly beneath her, and inlooking down upon the exterior of his umbrella her feminine eyesperceived it to be of superior silk--less common at that date thansince--and of elegant make. He reached the entrance to the building, andFancy suddenly lost sight of him. Instead of pursuing the roadway asDick had done he had turned sharply round into her own porch. 

She jumped to the floor, hastily flung off her shawl and bonnet, smoothedand patted her hair till the curls hung in passable condition, andlistened. No knock. Nearly a minute passed, and still there was noknock. Then there arose a soft series of raps, no louder than thetapping of a distant woodpecker, and barely distinct enough to reach herears. She composed herself and flung open the door. 

In the porch stood Mr. Maybold. 

There was a warm flush upon his face, and a bright flash in his eyes, which made him look handsomer than she had ever seen him before. 

"Good-evening, Miss Day. "

"Good-evening, Mr. Maybold, " she said, in a strange state of mind. Shehad noticed, beyond the ardent hue of his face, that his voice had asingular tremor in it, and that his hand shook like an aspen leaf when helaid his umbrella in the corner of the porch. Without another word beingspoken by either, he came into the schoolroom, shut the door, and movedclose to her. Once inside, the expression of his face was no morediscernible, by reason of the increasing dusk of evening. 

"I want to speak to you, " he then said; "seriously--on a perhapsunexpected subject, but one which is all the world to me--I don't knowwhat it may be to you, Miss Day. "

No reply. 

"Fancy, I have come to ask you if you will be my wife?"

As a person who has been idly amusing himself with rolling a snowballmight start at finding he had set in motion an avalanche, so did Fancystart at these words from the vicar. And in the dead silence whichfollowed them, the breathings of the man and of the woman could bedistinctly and separately heard; and there was this difference betweenthem--his respirations gradually grew quieter and less rapid after theenunciation hers, from having been low and regular, increased inquickness and force, till she almost panted. 

"I cannot, I cannot, Mr. Maybold--I cannot! Don't ask me!" she said. 

"Don't answer in a hurry!" he entreated. "And do listen to me. This isno sudden feeling on my part. I have loved you for more than six months!Perhaps my late interest in teaching the children here has not been sosingle-minded as it seemed. You will understand my motive--like mebetter, perhaps, for honestly telling you that I have struggled againstmy emotion continually, because I have thought that it was not well forme to love you! But I resolved to struggle no longer; I have examinedthe feeling; and the love I bear you is as genuine as that I could bearany woman! I see your great charm; I respect your natural talents, andthe refinement they have brought into your nature--they are quite enough, and more than enough for me! They are equal to anything ever required ofthe mistress of a quiet parsonage-house--the place in which I shall passmy days, wherever it may be situated. O Fancy, I have watched you, criticized you even severely, brought my feelings to the light ofjudgment, and still have found them rational, and such as any man mighthave expected to be inspired with by a woman like you! So there isnothing hurried, secret, or untoward in my desire to do this. Fancy, will you marry me?"

No answer was returned. 

"Don't refuse; don't, " he implored. "It would be foolish of you--I meancruel! Of course we would not live here, Fancy. I have had for a longtime the offer of an exchange of livings with a friend in Yorkshire, butI have hitherto refused on account of my mother. There we would go. Yourmusical powers shall be still further developed; you shall have whateverpianoforte you like; you shall have anything, Fancy, anything to make youhappy--pony-carriage, flowers, birds, pleasant society; yes, you haveenough in you for any society, after a few months of travel with me! Willyou, Fancy, marry me?"

Another pause ensued, varied only by the surging of the rain against thewindow-panes, and then Fancy spoke, in a faint and broken voice. 

"Yes, I will, " she said. 

"God bless you, my own!" He advanced quickly, and put his arm out toembrace her. She drew back hastily. "No no, not now!" she said in anagitated whisper. "There are things;--but the temptation is, O, toostrong, and I can't resist it; I can't tell you now, but I must tell you!Don't, please, don't come near me now! I want to think, I can scarcelyget myself used to the idea of what I have promised yet. " The nextminute she turned to a desk, buried her face in her hands, and burst intoa hysterical fit of weeping. "O, leave me to myself!" she sobbed; "leaveme! O, leave me!"

"Don't be distressed; don't, dearest!" It was with visible difficultythat he restrained himself from approaching her. "You shall tell me atyour leisure what it is that grieves you so; I am happy--beyond allmeasure happy!--at having your simple promise. "

"And do go and leave me now!"

"But I must not, in justice to you, leave for a minute, until you areyourself again. "

"There then, " she said, controlling her emotion, and standing up; "I amnot disturbed now. "

He reluctantly moved towards the door. "Good-bye!" he murmured tenderly. "I'll come to-morrow about this time. "

CHAPTER VII: SECOND THOUGHTS

The next morning the vicar rose early. The first thing he did was towrite a long and careful letter to his friend in Yorkshire. Then, eatinga little breakfast, he crossed the meadows in the direction ofCasterbridge, bearing his letter in his pocket, that he might post it atthe town office, and obviate the loss of one day in its transmission thatwould have resulted had he left it for the foot-post through the village. 

It was a foggy morning, and the trees shed in noisy water-drops themoisture they had collected from the thick air, an acorn occasionallyfalling from its cup to the ground, in company with the drippings. Inthe meads, sheets of spiders'-web, almost opaque with wet, hung in foldsover the fences, and the falling leaves appeared in every variety ofbrown, green, and yellow hue. 

A low and merry whistling was heard on the highway he was approaching, then the light footsteps of a man going in the same direction as himself. On reaching the junction of his path with the road, the vicar beheld DickDewy's open and cheerful face. Dick lifted his hat, and the vicar cameout into the highway that Dick was pursuing. 

"Good-morning, Dewy. How well you are looking!" said Mr. Maybold. 

"Yes, sir, I am well--quite well! I am going to Casterbridge now, to getSmart's collar; we left it there Saturday to be repaired. "

"I am going to Casterbridge, so we'll walk together, " the vicar said. Dick gave a hop with one foot to put himself in step with Mr. Maybold, who proceeded: "I fancy I didn't see you at church yesterday, Dewy. Orwere you behind the pier?"

"No; I went to Charmley. Poor John Dunford chose me to be one of hisbearers a long time before he died, and yesterday was the funeral. Ofcourse I couldn't refuse, though I should have liked particularly to havebeen at home as 'twas the day of the new music. "

"Yes, you should have been. The musical portion of the service wassuccessful--very successful indeed; and what is more to the purpose, noill-feeling whatever was evinced by any of the members of the old choir. They joined in the singing with the greatest good-will. "

"'Twas natural enough that I should want to be there, I suppose, " saidDick, smiling a private smile; "considering who the organ-player was. "

At this the vicar reddened a little, and said, "Yes, yes, " though not atall comprehending Dick's true meaning, who, as he received no furtherreply, continued hesitatingly, and with another smile denoting his prideas a lover--

"I suppose you know what I mean, sir? You've heard about me and--MissDay?"

The red in Maybold's countenance went away: he turned and looked Dick inthe face. 

"No, " he said constrainedly, "I've heard nothing whatever about you andMiss Day. "

"Why, she's my sweetheart, and we are going to be married next Midsummer. We are keeping it rather close just at present, because 'tis a good manymonths to wait; but it is her father's wish that we don't marry before, and of course we must submit. But the time 'ill soon slip along. "

"Yes, the time will soon slip along--Time glides away every day--yes. "

Maybold said these words, but he had no idea of what they were. He wasconscious of a cold and sickly thrill throughout him; and all he reasonedwas this that the young creature whose graces had intoxicated him intomaking the most imprudent resolution of his life, was less an angel thana woman. 

"You see, sir, " continued the ingenuous Dick, "'twill be better in onesense. I shall by that time be the regular manager of a branch o'father's business, which has very much increased lately, and business, which we think of starting elsewhere. It has very much increased lately, and we expect next year to keep a' extra couple of horses. We've alreadyour eye on one--brown as a berry, neck like a rainbow, fifteen hands, andnot a gray hair in her--offered us at twenty-five want a crown. And tokip pace with the times I have had some cards prented and I beg leave tohand you one, sir. "

"Certainly, " said the vicar, mechanically taking the card that Dickoffered him. 

"I turn in here by Grey's Bridge, " said Dick. "I suppose you go straighton and up town?"

"Yes. "

"Good-morning, sir. "

"Good-morning, Dewy. "

Maybold stood still upon the bridge, holding the card as it had been putinto his hand, and Dick's footsteps died away towards Durnover Mill. Thevicar's first voluntary action was to read the card:--

 DEWY AND SON, TRANTERS AND HAULIERS, MELLSTOCK. NB. --Furniture, Coals, Potatoes, Live and Dead Stock, removed to any distance on the shortest notice. 

Mr. Maybold leant over the parapet of the bridge and looked into theriver. He saw--without heeding--how the water came rapidly from beneaththe arches, glided down a little steep, then spread itself over a pool inwhich dace, trout, and minnows sported at ease among the long green locksof weed that lay heaving and sinking with their roots towards thecurrent. At the end of ten minutes spent leaning thus, he drew from hispocket the letter to his friend, tore it deliberately into such minutefragments that scarcely two syllables remained in juxtaposition, and sentthe whole handful of shreds fluttering into the water. Here he watchedthem eddy, dart, and turn, as they were carried downwards towards theocean and gradually disappeared from his view. Finally he moved off, andpursued his way at a rapid pace back again to Mellstock Vicarage. 

Nerving himself by a long and intense effort, he sat down in his studyand wrote as follows:

 "DEAR MISS DAY, --The meaning of your words, 'the temptation is too strong, ' of your sadness and your tears, has been brought home to me by an accident. I know to-day what I did not know yesterday--that you are not a free woman. 

 "Why did you not tell me--why didn't you? Did you suppose I knew? No. Had I known, my conduct in coming to you as I did would have been reprehensible. 

 "But I don't chide you! Perhaps no blame attaches to you--I can't tell. Fancy, though my opinion of you is assailed and disturbed in a way which cannot be expressed, I love you still, and my word to you holds good yet. But will you, in justice to an honest man who relies upon your word to him, consider whether, under the circumstances, you can honourably forsake him?--Yours ever sincerely, "ARTHUR MAYBOLD. "

He rang the bell. "Tell Charles to take these copybooks and this note tothe school at once. "

The maid took the parcel and the letter, and in a few minutes a boy wasseen to leave the vicarage gate, with the one under his arm, and theother in his hand. The vicar sat with his hand to his brow, watching thelad as he descended Church Lane and entered the waterside path whichintervened between that spot and the school. 

Here he was met by another boy, and after a free salutation andpugilistic frisk had passed between the two, the second boy came on hisway to the vicarage, and the other vanished out of sight. 

The boy came to the door, and a note for Mr. Maybold was brought in. 

He knew the writing. Opening the envelope with an unsteady hand, he readthe subjoined words:

 "DEAR MR. MAYBOLD, --I have been thinking seriously and sadly through the whole of the night of the question you put to me last evening and of my answer. That answer, as an honest woman, I had no right to give. 

 "It is my nature--perhaps all women's--to love refinement of mind and manners; but even more than this, to be ever fascinated with the idea of surroundings more elegant and pleasing than those which have been customary. And you praised me, and praise is life to me. It was alone my sensations at these things which prompted my reply. Ambition and vanity they would be called; perhaps they are so. 

 "After this explanation I hope you will generously allow me to withdraw the answer I too hastily gave. 

 "And one more request. To keep the meeting of last night, and all that passed between us there, for ever a secret. Were it to become known, it would utterly blight the happiness of a trusting and generous man, whom I love still, and shall love always. --Yours sincerely, "FANCY DAY. 

The last written communication that ever passed from the vicar to Fancy, was a note containing these words only:

 "Tell him everything; it is best. He will forgive you. "

PART THE FIFTH: CONCLUSION

CHAPTER I: 'THE KNOT THERE'S NO UNTYING'

The last day of the story is dated just subsequent to that point in thedevelopment of the seasons when country people go to bed among nearlynaked trees, are lulled to sleep by a fall of rain, and awake nextmorning among green ones; when the landscape appears embarrassed with thesudden weight and brilliancy of its leaves; when the night-jar comes andstrikes up for the summer his tune of one note; when the apple-trees havebloomed, and the roads and orchard-grass become spotted with fallenpetals; when the faces of the delicate flowers are darkened, and theirheads weighed down, by the throng of honey-bees, which increase theirhumming till humming is too mild a term for the all-pervading sound; andwhen cuckoos, blackbirds, and sparrows, that have hitherto been merry andrespectful neighbours, become noisy and persistent intimates. 

The exterior of Geoffrey Day's house in Yalbury Wood appeared exactly aswas usual at that season, but a frantic barking of the dogs at the backtold of unwonted movements somewhere within. Inside the door the eyesbeheld a gathering, which was a rarity indeed for the dwelling of thesolitary wood-steward and keeper. 

About the room were sitting and standing, in various gnarled attitudes, our old acquaintance, grandfathers James and William, the tranter, Mr. Penny, two or three children, including Jimmy and Charley, besides threeor four country ladies and gentlemen from a greater distance who do notrequire any distinction by name. Geoffrey was seen and heard stampingabout the outhouse and among the bushes of the garden, attending todetails of daily routine before the proper time arrived for theirperformance, in order that they might be off his hands for the day. Heappeared with his shirt-sleeves rolled up; his best new nether garments, in which he had arrayed himself that morning, being temporarily disguisedunder a weekday apron whilst these proceedings were in operation. Heoccasionally glanced at the hives in passing, to see if his wife's beeswere swarming, ultimately rolling down his shirt-sleeves and goingindoors, talking to tranter Dewy whilst buttoning the wristbands, to savetime; next going upstairs for his best waistcoat, and coming down againto make another remark whilst buttoning that, during the time lookingfixedly in the tranter's face as if he were a looking-glass. 

The furniture had undergone attenuation to an alarming extent, everyduplicate piece having been removed, including the clock by Thomas Wood;Ezekiel Saunders being at last left sole referee in matters of time. 

Fancy was stationary upstairs, receiving her layers of clothes andadornments, and answering by short fragments of laughter which had morefidgetiness than mirth in them, remarks that were made from time to timeby Mrs. Dewy and Mrs. Penny, who were assisting her at the toilet, Mrs. Day having pleaded a queerness in her head as a reason for shuttingherself up in an inner bedroom for the whole morning. Mrs. Pennyappeared with nine corkscrew curls on each side of her temples, and aback comb stuck upon her crown like a castle on a steep. 

The conversation just now going on was concerning the banns, the lastpublication of which had been on the Sunday previous. 

"And how did they sound?" Fancy subtly inquired. 

"Very beautiful indeed, " said Mrs. Penny. "I never heard any soundbetter. "

"But how?"

"O, so natural and elegant, didn't they, Reuben!" she cried, through thechinks of the unceiled floor, to the tranter downstairs. 

"What's that?" said the tranter, looking up inquiringly at the floorabove him for an answer. 

"Didn't Dick and Fancy sound well when they were called home in churchlast Sunday?" came downwards again in Mrs. Penny's voice. 

"Ay, that they did, my sonnies!--especially the first time. There was aterrible whispering piece of work in the congregation, wasn't there, neighbour Penny?" said the tranter, taking up the thread of conversationon his own account and, in order to be heard in the room above, speakingvery loud to Mr. Penny, who sat at the distance of three feet from him, or rather less. 

"I never can mind seeing such a whispering as there was, " said Mr. Penny, also loudly, to the room above. "And such sorrowful envy on the maidens'faces; really, I never did see such envy as there was!"

Fancy's lineaments varied in innumerable little flushes, and her heartpalpitated innumerable little tremors of pleasure. "But perhaps, " shesaid, with assumed indifference, "it was only because no religion wasgoing on just then?"

"O, no; nothing to do with that. 'Twas because of your high standing inthe parish. It was just as if they had one and all caught Dick kissingand coling ye to death, wasn't it, Mrs. Dewy?"

"Ay; that 'twas. "

"How people will talk about one's doings!" Fancy exclaimed. 

"Well, if you make songs about yourself, my dear, you can't blame otherpeople for singing 'em. "

"Mercy me! how shall I go through it?" said the young lady again, butmerely to those in the bedroom, with a breathing of a kind between a sighand a pant, round shining eyes, and warm face. 

"O, you'll get through it well enough, child, " said Mrs. Dewy placidly. "The edge of the performance is took off at the calling home; and whenonce you get up to the chancel end o' the church, you feel as saucy asyou please. I'm sure I felt as brave as a sodger all through thedeed--though of course I dropped my face and looked modest, as wasbecoming to a maid. Mind you do that, Fancy. "

"And I walked into the church as quiet as a lamb, I'm sure, " subjoinedMrs. Penny. "There, you see Penny is such a little small man. Butcertainly, I was flurried in the inside o' me. Well, thinks I, 'tis tobe, and here goes! And do you do the same: say, ''Tis to be, and heregoes!'"

"Is there such wonderful virtue in ''Tis to be, and here goes!'" inquiredFancy. 

"Wonderful! 'Twill carry a body through it all from wedding tochurching, if you only let it out with spirit enough. "

"Very well, then, " said Fancy, blushing. "'Tis to be, and here goes!"

"That's a girl for a husband!" said Mrs. Dewy. 

"I do hope he'll come in time!" continued the bride-elect, inventing anew cause of affright, now that the other was demolished. 

"'Twould be a thousand pities if he didn't come, now you be so brave, "said Mrs. Penny. 

Grandfather James, having overheard some of these remarks, saiddownstairs with mischievous loudness--

"I've known some would-be weddings when the men didn't come. "

"They've happened not to come, before now, certainly, " said Mr. Penny, cleaning one of the glasses of his spectacles. 

"O, do hear what they are saying downstairs, " whispered Fancy. "Hush, hush!"

She listened. 

"They have, haven't they, Geoffrey?" continued grandfather James, asGeoffrey entered. 

"Have what?" said Geoffrey. 

"The men have been known not to come. "

"That they have, " said the keeper. 

"Ay; I've knowed times when the wedding had to be put off through his notappearing, being tired of the woman. And another case I knowed was whenthe man was catched in a man-trap crossing Oaker's Wood, and the threemonths had run out before he got well, and the banns had to be publishedover again. "

"How horrible!" said Fancy. 

"They only say it on purpose to tease 'ee, my dear, " said Mrs. Dewy. 

"'Tis quite sad to think what wretched shifts poor maids have been putto, " came again from downstairs. "Ye should hear Clerk Wilkins, mybrother-law, tell his experiences in marrying couples these last thirtyyear: sometimes one thing, sometimes another--'tis quiteheart-rending--enough to make your hair stand on end. "

"Those things don't happen very often, I know, " said Fancy, withsmouldering uneasiness. 

"Well, really 'tis time Dick was here, " said the tranter. 

"Don't keep on at me so, grandfather James and Mr. Dewy, and all you downthere!" Fancy broke out, unable to endure any longer. "I am sure I shalldie, or do something, if you do!"

"Never you hearken to these old chaps, Miss Day!" cried Nat Callcome, thebest man, who had just entered, and threw his voice upward through thechinks of the floor as the others had done. "'Tis all right; Dick'scoming on like a wild feller; he'll be here in a minute. The hive o'bees his mother gie'd en for his new garden swarmed jist as he wasstarting, and he said, 'I can't afford to lose a stock o' bees; no, thatI can't, though I fain would; and Fancy wouldn't wish it on any account. 'So he jist stopped to ting to 'em and shake 'em. "

"A genuine wise man, " said Geoffrey. 

"To be sure, what a day's work we had yesterday!" Mr. Callcome continued, lowering his voice as if it were not necessary any longer to includethose in the room above among his audience, and selecting a remote cornerof his best clean handkerchief for wiping his face. "To be sure!"

"Things so heavy, I suppose, " said Geoffrey, as if reading through thechimney-window from the far end of the vista. 

"Ay, " said Nat, looking round the room at points from which furniture hadbeen removed. "And so awkward to carry, too. 'Twas ath'art and acrossDick's garden; in and out Dick's door; up and down Dick's stairs; roundand round Dick's chammers till legs were worn to stumps: and Dick is soparticular, too. And the stores of victuals and drink that lad has laidin: why, 'tis enough for Noah's ark! I'm sure I never wish to see achoicer half-dozen of hams than he's got there in his chimley; and thecider I tasted was a very pretty drop, indeed;--none could desire aprettier cider. "

"They be for the love and the stalled ox both. Ah, the greedy martels!"said grandfather James. 

"Well, may-be they be. Surely, " says I, "that couple between 'em haveheaped up so much furniture and victuals, that anybody would think theywere going to take hold the big end of married life first, and begin wi'a grown-up family. Ah, what a bath of heat we two chaps were in, to besure, a-getting that furniture in order!"

"I do so wish the room below was ceiled, " said Fancy, as the dressingwent on; "we can hear all they say and do down there. "

"Hark! Who's that?" exclaimed a small pupil-teacher, who also assistedthis morning, to her great delight. She ran half-way down the stairs, and peeped round the banister. "O, you should, you should, you should!"she exclaimed, scrambling up to the room again. 

"What?" said Fancy. 

"See the bridesmaids! They've just a come! 'Tis wonderful, really! 'tiswonderful how muslin can be brought to it. There, they don't look a bitlike themselves, but like some very rich sisters o' theirs that nobodyknew they had!"

"Make 'em come up to me, make 'em come up!" cried Fancy ecstatically; andthe four damsels appointed, namely, Miss Susan Dewy, Miss Bessie Dewy, Miss Vashti Sniff, and Miss Mercy Onmey, surged upstairs, and floatedalong the passage. 

"I wish Dick would come!" was again the burden of Fancy. 

The same instant a small twig and flower from the creeper outside thedoor flew in at the open window, and a masculine voice said, "Ready, Fancy dearest?"

"There he is, he is!" cried Fancy, tittering spasmodically, and breathingas it were for the first time that morning. 

The bridesmaids crowded to the window and turned their heads in thedirection pointed out, at which motion eight earrings all swung asone:--not looking at Dick because they particularly wanted to see him, but with an important sense of their duty as obedient ministers of thewill of that apotheosised being--the Bride. 

"He looks very taking!" said Miss Vashti Sniff, a young lady who blushedcream-colour and wore yellow bonnet ribbons. 

Dick was advancing to the door in a painfully new coat of shining cloth, primrose-coloured waistcoat, hat of the same painful style of newness, and with an extra quantity of whiskers shaved off his face, and hair cutto an unwonted shortness in honour of the occasion. 

"Now, I'll run down, " said Fancy, looking at herself over her shoulder inthe glass, and flitting off. 

"O Dick!" she exclaimed, "I am so glad you are come! I knew you would, of course, but I thought, Oh if you shouldn't!"

"Not come, Fancy! Het or wet, blow or snow, here come I to-day! Why, what's possessing your little soul? You never used to mind such things abit. "

"Ah, Mr. Dick, I hadn't hoisted my colours and committed myself then!"said Fancy. 

"'Tis a pity I can't marry the whole five of ye!" said Dick, surveyingthem all round. 

"Heh-heh-heh!" laughed the four bridesmaids, and Fancy privately touchedDick and smoothed him down behind his shoulder, as if to assure herselfthat he was there in flesh and blood as her own property. 

"Well, whoever would have thought such a thing?" said Dick, taking offhis hat, sinking into a chair, and turning to the elder members of thecompany. 

The latter arranged their eyes and lips to signify that in their opinionnobody could have thought such a thing, whatever it was. 

"That my bees should ha' swarmed just then, of all times and seasons!"continued Dick, throwing a comprehensive glance like a net over the wholeauditory. "And 'tis a fine swarm, too: I haven't seen such a fine swarmfor these ten years. "

"A' excellent sign, " said Mrs. Penny, from the depths of experience. "A'excellent sign. "

"I am glad everything seems so right, " said Fancy with a breath ofrelief. 

"And so am I, " said the four bridesmaids with much sympathy. 

"Well, bees can't be put off, " observed the inharmonious grandfatherJames. "Marrying a woman is a thing you can do at any moment; but aswarm o' bees won't come for the asking. "

Dick fanned himself with his hat. "I can't think, " he said thoughtfully, "whatever 'twas I did to offend Mr. Maybold, a man I like so much too. Herather took to me when he came first, and used to say he should like tosee me married, and that he'd marry me, whether the young woman I choselived in his parish or no. I just hinted to him of it when I put in thebanns, but he didn't seem to take kindly to the notion now, and so I saidno more. I wonder how it was. "

"I wonder!" said Fancy, looking into vacancy with those beautiful eyes ofhers--too refined and beautiful for a tranter's wife; but, perhaps, nottoo good. 

"Altered his mind, as folks will, I suppose, " said the tranter. "Well, my sonnies, there'll be a good strong party looking at us to-day as we goalong. "

"And the body of the church, " said Geoffrey, "will be lined with females, and a row of young fellers' heads, as far down as the eyes, will benoticed just above the sills of the chancel-winders. "

"Ay, you've been through it twice, " said Reuben, "and well mid know. "

"I can put up with it for once, " said Dick, "or twice either, or a dozentimes. "

"O Dick!" said Fancy reproachfully. 

"Why, dear, that's nothing, --only just a bit of a flourish. You be asnervous as a cat to-day. "

"And then, of course, when 'tis all over, " continued the tranter, "weshall march two and two round the parish. "

"Yes, sure, " said Mr. Penny: "two and two: every man hitched up to hiswoman, 'a b'lieve. "

"I never can make a show of myself in that way!" said Fancy, looking atDick to ascertain if he could. 

"I'm agreed to anything you and the company like, my dear!" said Mr. Richard Dewy heartily. 

"Why, we did when we were married, didn't we, Ann?" said the tranter;"and so do everybody, my sonnies. "

"And so did we, " said Fancy's father. 

"And so did Penny and I, " said Mrs. Penny: "I wore my best Bath clogs, Iremember, and Penny was cross because it made me look so tall. "

"And so did father and mother, " said Miss Mercy Onmey. 

"And I mean to, come next Christmas!" said Nat the groomsman vigorously, and looking towards the person of Miss Vashti Sniff. 

"Respectable people don't nowadays, " said Fancy. "Still, since poormother did, I will. "

"Ay, " resumed the tranter, "'twas on a White Tuesday when I committed it. Mellstock Club walked the same day, and we new-married folk went a-gayinground the parish behind 'em. Everybody used to wear something white atWhitsuntide in them days. My sonnies, I've got the very white trousersthat I wore, at home in box now. Ha'n't I, Ann?"

"You had till I cut 'em up for Jimmy, " said Mrs. Dewy. 

"And we ought, by rights, after doing this parish, to go round Higher andLower Mellstock, and call at Viney's, and so work our way hither againacross He'th, " said Mr. Penny, recovering scent of the matter in hand. "Dairyman Viney is a very respectable man, and so is Farmer Kex, and weought to show ourselves to them. "

"True, " said the tranter, "we ought to go round Mellstock to do the thingwell. We shall form a very striking object walking along in rotation, good-now, neighbours?"

"That we shall: a proper pretty sight for the nation, " said Mrs. Penny. 

"Hullo!" said the tranter, suddenly catching sight of a singular humanfigure standing in the doorway, and wearing a long smock-frock of pillow-case cut and of snowy whiteness. "Why, Leaf! whatever dost thou dohere?"

"I've come to know if so be I can come to the wedding--hee-hee!" saidLeaf in a voice of timidity. 

"Now, Leaf, " said the tranter reproachfully, "you know we don't want 'eehere to-day: we've got no room for ye, Leaf. "

"Thomas Leaf, Thomas Leaf, fie upon ye for prying!" said old William. 

"I know I've got no head, but I thought, if I washed and put on a claneshirt and smock-frock, I might just call, " said Leaf, turning awaydisappointed and trembling. 

"Poor feller!" said the tranter, turning to Geoffrey. "Suppose we mustlet en come? His looks are rather against en, and he is terrible silly;but 'a have never been in jail, and 'a won't do no harm. "

Leaf looked with gratitude at the tranter for these praises, and thenanxiously at Geoffrey, to see what effect they would have in helping hiscause. 

"Ay, let en come, " said Geoffrey decisively. "Leaf, th'rt welcome, 'stknow;" and Leaf accordingly remained. 

They were now all ready for leaving the house, and began to form aprocession in the following order: Fancy and her father, Dick and SusanDewy, Nat Callcome and Vashti Sniff, Ted Waywood and Mercy Onmey, andJimmy and Bessie Dewy. These formed the executive, and all appeared instrict wedding attire. Then came the tranter and Mrs. Dewy, and last ofall Mr. And Mrs. Penny;--the tranter conspicuous by his enormous gloves, size eleven and three-quarters, which appeared at a distance like boxinggloves bleached, and sat rather awkwardly upon his brown hands; this hall-mark of respectability having been set upon himself to-day (by Fancy'sspecial request) for the first time in his life. 

"The proper way is for the bridesmaids to walk together, " suggestedFancy. 

"What? 'Twas always young man and young woman, arm in crook, in mytime!" said Geoffrey, astounded. 

"And in mine!" said the tranter. 

"And in ours!" said Mr. And Mrs. Penny. 

"Never heard o' such a thing as woman and woman!" said old William; who, with grandfather James and Mrs. Day, was to stay at home. 

"Whichever way you and the company like, my dear!" said Dick, who, beingon the point of securing his right to Fancy, seemed willing to renounceall other rights in the world with the greatest pleasure. The decisionwas left to Fancy. 

"Well, I think I'd rather have it the way mother had it, " she said, andthe couples moved along under the trees, every man to his maid. 

"Ah!" said grandfather James to grandfather William as they retired, "Iwonder which she thinks most about, Dick or her wedding raiment!"

"Well, 'tis their nature, " said grandfather William. "Remember the wordsof the prophet Jeremiah: 'Can a maid forget her ornaments, or a bride herattire?'"

Now among dark perpendicular firs, like the shafted columns of acathedral; now through a hazel copse, matted with primroses and wildhyacinths; now under broad beeches in bright young leaves they threadedtheir way into the high road over Yalbury Hill, which dipped at thatpoint directly into the village of Geoffrey Day's parish; and in thespace of a quarter of an hour Fancy found herself to be Mrs. RichardDewy, though, much to her surprise, feeling no other than Fancy Daystill. 

On the circuitous return walk through the lanes and fields, amid muchchattering and laughter, especially when they came to stiles, Dickdiscerned a brown spot far up a turnip field. 

"Why, 'tis Enoch!" he said to Fancy. "I thought I missed him at thehouse this morning. How is it he's left you?"

"He drank too much cider, and it got into his head, and they put him inWeatherbury stocks for it. Father was obliged to get somebody else for aday or two, and Enoch hasn't had anything to do with the woods since. "

"We might ask him to call down to-night. Stocks are nothing for once, considering 'tis our wedding day. " The bridal party was ordered to halt. 

"Eno-o-o-o-ch!" cried Dick at the top of his voice. 

"Y-a-a-a-a-a-as!" said Enoch from the distance. 

"D'ye know who I be-e-e-e-e-e?"

"No-o-o-o-o-o-o!"

"Dick Dew-w-w-w-wy!"

"O-h-h-h-h-h!"

"Just a-ma-a-a-a-a-arried!"

"O-h-h-h-h-h!"

"This is my wife, Fa-a-a-a-a-ancy!" (holding her up to Enoch's view as ifshe had been a nosegay. )

"O-h-h-h-h-h!"

"Will ye come across to the party to-ni-i-i-i-i-i-ight!"

"Ca-a-a-a-a-an't!"

"Why n-o-o-o-o-ot?"

"Don't work for the family no-o-o-o-ow!"

"Not nice of Master Enoch, " said Dick, as they resumed their walk. 

"You mustn't blame en, " said Geoffrey; "the man's not hisself now; he'sin his morning frame of mind. When he's had a gallon o' cider or ale, ora pint or two of mead, the man's well enough, and his manners be as goodas anybody's in the kingdom. "

CHAPTER II: UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE

The point in Yalbury Wood which abutted on the end of Geoffrey Day'spremises was closed with an ancient tree, horizontally of enormousextent, though having no great pretensions to height. Many hundreds ofbirds had been born amidst the boughs of this single tree; tribes ofrabbits and hares had nibbled at its bark from year to year; quaint tuftsof fungi had sprung from the cavities of its forks; and countlessfamilies of moles and earthworms had crept about its roots. Beneath andbeyond its shade spread a carefully-tended grass-plot, its purpose beingto supply a healthy exercise-ground for young chickens and pheasants; thehens, their mothers, being enclosed in coops placed upon the same greenflooring. 

All these encumbrances were now removed, and as the afternoon advanced, the guests gathered on the spot, where music, dancing, and the singing ofsongs went forward with great spirit throughout the evening. Thepropriety of every one was intense by reason of the influence of Fancy, who, as an additional precaution in this direction, had strictly chargedher father and the tranter to carefully avoid saying 'thee' and 'thou' intheir conversation, on the plea that those ancient words sounded so veryhumiliating to persons of newer taste; also that they were never to beseen drawing the back of the hand across the mouth after drinking--alocal English custom of extraordinary antiquity, but stated by Fancy tobe decidedly dying out among the better classes of society. 

In addition to the local musicians present, a man who had a thoroughknowledge of the tambourine was invited from the village of TantrumClangley, --a place long celebrated for the skill of its inhabitants asperformers on instruments of percussion. These important members of theassembly were relegated to a height of two or three feet from the ground, upon a temporary erection of planks supported by barrels. Whilst thedancing progressed the older persons sat in a group under the trunk ofthe tree, --the space being allotted to them somewhat grudgingly by theyoung ones, who were greedy of pirouetting room, --and fortified by atable against the heels of the dancers. Here the gaffers and gammers, whose dancing days were over, told stories of great impressiveness, andat intervals surveyed the advancing and retiring couples from the sameretreat, as people on shore might be supposed to survey a navalengagement in the bay beyond; returning again to their tales when thepause was over. Those of the whirling throng, who, during the restsbetween each figure, turned their eyes in the direction of these seatedones, were only able to discover, on account of the music and bustle, that a very striking circumstance was in course of narration--denoted byan emphatic sweep of the hand, snapping of the fingers, close of thelips, and fixed look into the centre of the listener's eye for the spaceof a quarter of a minute, which raised in that listener such areciprocating working of face as to sometimes make the distant dancershalf wish to know what such an interesting tale could refer to. 

Fancy caused her looks to wear as much matronly expression as wasobtainable out of six hours' experience as a wife, in order that thecontrast between her own state of life and that of the unmarried youngwomen present might be duly impressed upon the company: occasionallystealing glances of admiration at her left hand, but this quiteprivately; for her ostensible bearing concerning the matter was intendedto show that, though she undoubtedly occupied the most wondrous positionin the eyes of the world that had ever been attained, she was almostunconscious of the circumstance, and that the somewhat prominent positionin which that wonderfully-emblazoned left hand was continually found tobe placed, when handing cups and saucers, knives, forks, and glasses, wasquite the result of accident. As to wishing to excite envy in the bosomsof her maiden companions, by the exhibition of the shining ring, everyone was to know it was quite foreign to the dignity of such anexperienced married woman. Dick's imagination in the meantime was farless capable of drawing so much wontedness from his new condition. Hehad been for two or three hours trying to feel himself merely a newly-married man, but had been able to get no further in the attempt than torealize that he was Dick Dewy, the tranter's son, at a party given byLord Wessex's head man-in-charge, on the outlying Yalbury estate, dancingand chatting with Fancy Day. 

Five country dances, including 'Haste to the Wedding, ' two reels, andthree fragments of horn-pipes, brought them to the time for supper, which, on account of the dampness of the grass from the immaturity of thesummer season, was spread indoors. At the conclusion of the meal Dickwent out to put the horse in; and Fancy, with the elder half of the fourbridesmaids, retired upstairs to dress for the journey to Dick's newcottage near Mellstock. 

"How long will you be putting on your bonnet, Fancy?" Dick inquired atthe foot of the staircase. Being now a man of business and married, hewas strong on the importance of time, and doubled the emphasis of hiswords in conversing, and added vigour to his nods. 

"Only a minute. "

"How long is that?"

"Well, dear, five. "

"Ah, sonnies!" said the tranter, as Dick retired, "'tis a talent of thefemale race that low numbers should stand for high, more especially inmatters of waiting, matters of age, and matters of money. "

"True, true, upon my body, " said Geoffrey. 

"Ye spak with feeling, Geoffrey, seemingly. "

"Anybody that d'know my experience might guess that. "

"What's she doing now, Geoffrey?"

"Claning out all the upstairs drawers and cupboards, and dusting thesecond-best chainey--a thing that's only done once a year. 'If there'swork to be done I must do it, ' says she, 'wedding or no. '"

"'Tis my belief she's a very good woman at bottom. "

"She's terrible deep, then. "

Mrs. Penny turned round. "Well, 'tis humps and hollers with the best ofus; but still and for all that, Dick and Fancy stand as fair a chance ofhaving a bit of sunsheen as any married pair in the land. "

"Ay, there's no gainsaying it. "

Mrs. Dewy came up, talking to one person and looking at another. "Happy, yes, " she said. "'Tis always so when a couple is so exactly in tune withone another as Dick and she. "

"When they be'n't too poor to have time to sing, " said grandfather James. 

"I tell ye, neighbours, when the pinch comes, " said the tranter: "whenthe oldest daughter's boots be only a size less than her mother's, andthe rest o' the flock close behind her. A sharp time for a man that, mysonnies; a very sharp time! Chanticleer's comb is a-cut then, 'abelieve. "

"That's about the form o't, " said Mr. Penny. "That'll put the stuns upona man, when you must measure mother and daughter's lasts to tell 'emapart. "

"You've no cause to complain, Reuben, of such a close-coming flock, " saidMrs. Dewy; "for ours was a straggling lot enough, God knows!"

"I d'know it, I d'know it, " said the tranter. "You be a well-enoughwoman, Ann. "

Mrs. Dewy put her mouth in the form of a smile, and put it back againwithout smiling. 

"And if they come together, they go together, " said Mrs. Penny, whosefamily had been the reverse of the tranter's; "and a little money willmake either fate tolerable. And money can be made by our young couple, Iknow. "

"Yes, that it can!" said the impulsive voice of Leaf, who had hithertohumbly admired the proceedings from a corner. "It can be done--allthat's wanted is a few pounds to begin with. That's all! I know a storyabout it!"

"Let's hear thy story, Leaf, " said the tranter. "I never knew you wereclever enough to tell a story. Silence, all of ye! Mr. Leaf will tell astory. "

"Tell your story, Thomas Leaf, " said grandfather William in the tone of aschoolmaster. 

"Once, " said the delighted Leaf, in an uncertain voice, "there was a manwho lived in a house! Well, this man went thinking and thinking nightand day. At last, he said to himself, as I might, 'If I had only tenpound, I'd make a fortune. ' At last by hook or by crook, behold he gotthe ten pounds!"

"Only think of that!" said Nat Callcome satirically. 

"Silence!" said the tranter. 

"Well, now comes the interesting part of the story! In a little time hemade that ten pounds twenty. Then a little time after that he doubledit, and made it forty. Well, he went on, and a good while after that hemade it eighty, and on to a hundred. Well, by-and-by he made it twohundred! Well, you'd never believe it, but--he went on and made it fourhundred! He went on, and what did he do? Why, he made it eight hundred!Yes, he did, " continued Leaf, in the highest pitch of excitement, bringing down his fist upon his knee with such force that he quiveredwith the pain; "yes, and he went on and made it A THOUSAND!"

"Hear, hear!" said the tranter. "Better than the history of England, mysonnies!"

"Thank you for your story, Thomas Leaf, " said grandfather William; andthen Leaf gradually sank into nothingness again. 

Amid a medley of laughter, old shoes, and elder-wine, Dick and his bridetook their departure, side by side in the excellent new spring-cart whichthe young tranter now possessed. The moon was just over the full, rendering any light from lamps or their own beauties quite unnecessary tothe pair. They drove slowly along Yalbury Bottom, where the road passedbetween two copses. Dick was talking to his companion. 

"Fancy, " he said, "why we are so happy is because there is such fullconfidence between us. Ever since that time you confessed to that littleflirtation with Shiner by the river (which was really no flirtation atall), I have thought how artless and good you must be to tell me o' sucha trifling thing, and to be so frightened about it as you were. It haswon me to tell you my every deed and word since then. We'll have nosecrets from each other, darling, will we ever?--no secret at all. "

"None from to-day, " said Fancy. "Hark! what's that?"

From a neighbouring thicket was suddenly heard to issue in a loud, musical, and liquid voice--

"Tippiwit! swe-e-et! ki-ki-ki! Come hither, come hither, come hither!"

"O, 'tis the nightingale, " murmured she, and thought of a secret shewould never tell. 

Footnotes:

{1} This, a local expression, must be a corruption of something lessquestionable.