RUIN O' ENGLAND.
(At "The Plough and Horses.")
"Upper classes be stirrin' o' theirselves to rights now, seemin'ly."
"'Ow be you meanin', George?"
"Squire be by my place 'tother day when I be 'avin' a bit o' quiet pipe by my gate, same as you might be, Luther Cherriman, an' 'e stops—which 'e ain't been in the 'abit o' doin'—an' 'e says, ''Ullo, George,' 'e says, 'bain't you the man as allus used to keep a pig ereabouts?' An' I answers 'im as I cert'nly did use to keep a pig pretty constant when food-stuffs was cheaper than what they be now."
"What's 'e say to that, George?"
"'E says, 'My good man, if you was a bit more thrifty like, an' wasn't above collectin' 'ouse'old scraps,' 'e says, 'an', moreover, if you wasn't so blamed penny wise an' poun' foolish,' 'e says, 'you'd be keepin' y'r pigs—breedin' of 'em—now, when you could get biggest price for 'em. You'd be doin' o' y'rself a good turn an' settin' a 'xample to y'r neighbours,' 'e says, 'as they badly needs. Well, any'ow, think it over,' 'e says—an' away 'e goes."
"You been thinkin' it over, George?"
"In a manner o' speakin' I be thinkin' it over now, this very minute. In a manner o' speakin' I were thinkin' it over when I goes up to the Court over a bit o' business yesterday. 'Owever, I were really doin' no more 'n airin' my mind, as you might say, to the Cook—a decent 'nough young woman. I 'adn't no idea o' nothin' more."
"What you say to 'er, then?"
"I were lookin' at a bit of a lawn they 'as up there to the left o' their back-door. Middlin' poor bit o' lawn it be, not like them in front, an' I says of it what I've often said afore. 'Too much lawn to this 'ere 'ouse,' I says, 'to please me. Ruin o' England,' I says, 'lawns do be. Orter be dug up,' I says. 'Sow a matter o' fower bushels o' taters,' I says, 'on that poor little bit 'lone. Don't like t' see all this waste o' groun',' I says, 'an' us at war.'"
"What did Cook say to that? Some'at saucy, I be bound."
"'You be very practical, George,' she says, 'but food ain't everything, even in times o' war. You did ought to have seen wounded soldiers,' she says, 'settin' 'bout on all these 'ere lawns last summer time, like a lot o' bluebottles, 'joyin' o' theirselves to rights,' she says. 'An' 'ow could they a-done it, poor chaps,' she says, 'if we'd 'ad nothin' but an ol' tater patch to offer 'em?'"
"You'd got y'r answer to that, I dessay."
"I 'ad. 'They soldier chaps could very well 'ave sat on the paths,' I says—for the paths be wasteful wide to my thinkin'. 'A bit of a bench or a chair or so, an' they'd 'ave been right as rain, with some'at to look at as was sensible, too. A close-cut lawn ain't no manner o' interest to a thinkin' man, not like a medder or a few rows o' good early taters be.'"
"What did Cook say to that 'ere?"
"She laughs, an' she says, 'You be done courtin' then, George, I can see. You ain't got no thought of a second wife, seemin'ly.' ''Ow d' you know that?' I asks; an' she laughs again an' says she knows, 'cos if 'twasn't so I'd like the thought of a bit o' lawn to sit out on warm evenings an' such. An' then she says, 'You think too much o' y'r stomach, George'—which fair rattled me."
"What you say?"
"I says again, 'They lawns be the ruin o' England, I tell ye'—an' then I see 'er start an' go red 's a poppy, an' then she sort o' plunges in at 'er door. An' then I looks round for first time an' I sees Squire standin' there, 'earin' all as 'ad been said, an' for the moment I'd 'ave been glad 'nough for a back-door too—so I would."
"Lord-a-mercy, George, you're a rare-un for puttin' y'r foot in it wi' gentry! What to gracious did 'e make o' it?"
"'E sort o' smiled—but crooked like. An' then 'e says, 'No but what you're right, George'—which were 'bout 'undred miles from what I 'spected 'im to say. 'Look 'ere,' 'e goes on, 'I'll make a bargain wi' ye. You send me up 'alf-a-bushel o' seed potatoes,' 'e says, 'to start on, an' I'll send you a young sow out o' the last litter. What d' you say?'"
"What did ye say?"
"I says, 'Thank ye kindly, Sir. An' if I've done my bit to save England from ruin I be fine an' glad.' And so I be."