CHAPTER XX
GORSWEN FAIR
'Come, let us go while we are in our prime,
And take the harmless folly of the time.'
Easter was here at last, and down at the Willows Archie had come home like the breath of spring, Miss Forster declaring that he did her more good than all her medicine bottles, and that his lively ways would make her almost her usual self again, while at the Abbey he had a royal welcome. It was funny to see how the young American citizen was merging into the British public schoolboy, for Archie was losing his Western accent, which only cropped out now and then when he was excited, and cricket and football were beginning to replace Indians and grizzlies in his conversation; but he was totally unspoilt by his new life, and as jolly and hearty as ever.
The weather seemed to have conspired in his favour, for the biting March winds and cutting hail-storms gave way to genial sunshine and April showers. The hedgerows had burst into tender green, and the banks were spangled with stitchwort and celandine stars. There had been quite a spell of sickness in Gorswen at the end of the winter, for many of the picturesque cottages were dark, unwholesome places inside, and lay low on the damp fields by the river; but the invalids crept out now into the sunlight, and the mild breezes blew roses into wan cheeks and brightness into dull eyes, bringing back health, that most priceless of gifts, to the village—to all, indeed, but the Rector, who had been sick-nurse, doctor's assistant, family friend and chaplain combined during the epidemic, and now that the strain was over broke down so utterly that the physician insisted upon a complete rest and change of air, ordering him off immediately to the high meadows of the Alps. He went unwillingly.
'I would rather worry on, Peggy,' he said, 'till I can take that last long holiday of all. It is better to wear out than rust out, any day. Still, our bodies were not given us to abuse, so you see I am obeying orders, like a good soldier.'
The village seemed strangely empty without Mr. Howell. Everyone had become so accustomed to claim his help and sympathy upon every occasion as a matter of course that it was only when he was gone they realized how much they valued him, for many of our blessings are hardly appreciated until we have lost them. The curate did his best, but as the old dames remarked: 'He be a nice gentleman, and means well, for sure; but what can a young lad like that have to say to we?'
So they dusted their best chairs for him, and agreed with all his remarks about the weather or the Prayer Book, but kept their doubts and difficulties for the tried old friend who had stood the test of years.
Most of the people had made haste to get well for Easter, for to the good folk of Gorswen that festival meant but one event—the great fair of the borders, which had been held in the village every Easter Tuesday within the memory of even that wonderful person, the oldest inhabitant. It was a kind of central pivot for the year to turn on, and 'five years come fair-day,' or 'the last fair-day but one agone,' was the general method of calculating time amongst the villagers. Everybody put on something new for the fair, and to have appeared on that occasion in a last year's hat would have been an offence against public taste, or a confession of abject poverty scarcely removed above pauperism. Cousins to the ninth and tenth degree turned up for the fair, distant relations from remote districts or former inhabitants who had left the neighbourhood and 'got on' in other places availed themselves of cheap excursions, and visited their early home, partly for the holiday, and partly for the sake of meeting everyone else.
The wave of excitement which spread over the village as Easter drew near could scarcely fail to send its ripples up to the Abbey. Nancy's evenings for some time past had been absorbed in the construction of a bright heliotrope gown with gilt buttons, and she had walked into Warford on her day out, and spent a month's wages upon a hat, which was such a marvellous erection of flowers and feathers combined with lace, chiffon, and ribbons, that it was calculated to leave her rivals, like the Queen of Sheba, with no more spirit in them.
'Which fair-day only comes onst a year, so folks may as well do their best,' she observed, as she tried it on before the kitchen mirror. 'And I had heard as that Sally Pearson has got a hat all the way from Shrewsbury. A squint-eyed baggage she be, too, who'd ne'er look aught, whatever she might clap on her head. Tell me truly now, Miss Peggy dear, does it suit me or not?'