Chapter VI
It was five or six years afterwards that I saw Jennifer again. At that time the coppice and cottage were her own freehold. The cottage was covered with creepers: the little garden was full of fruit trees and flowers. A row of beehives was ranged across one side of it. At the back there strutted and clucked a great host of fowls. Farther away a dozen pigs lay in their sties, and grunted their satisfaction with the best possible of worlds.
The potato ground was wonderful; no such potatoes grew anywhere else. The soil, enriched by the decay of the woods for years, yielded prolifically, and the first potatoes of the district that came to the market were Mrs. Petch's, as they called her now. But Mrs. Petch herself was just the same dear old Jennifer, as simple as of old. Her husband had passed away; without pain he had sunk to rest. The lads were big, broad-shouldered fellows who walked beside their little mother with more pride of her than ever.
At every collection now there is a bit of gold from somebody, and if it ever has to be announced, it still is read out, "Gold and Incense." But even gold has lost something of its charm to Jennifer, and on special occasions she whispers, "No other colour is good enough for Him, except it is a five-pound note."
But there is one matter in which Jennifer sticks to her opinion and will yield to nobody.
"You may say what you mind to, after all said and done, crusties is more nourishinger and strengthener than tea. I've a-tried both, and do know that."
Butler & Tanner, Frome and London.
Transcriber's Note:
Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as possible, including non-standard spelling.
The line
"Oh, Jennifer"!
was changed to
"Oh, Jennifer!"