“Food supplies, so the driver said, when he came to himself a little last night. He told us how the doctor had made his way through to Rownton, and had said that Pentland Broads was hard pushed for food; so he had volunteered to drive a load through as quickly as possible, and when he found that he could not get on, he was in very great distress,” Bertha replied, and her tone was offended still.
There was a cackle of unmirthful laughter from Mr. Semple, with a hoarse sort of explosion from Bill Humphries, and then the storekeeper said, “A regular first-of-April time we have had this morning, and no mistake about it. When Dan came driving that sledge to the door this morning we all swarmed about him like bees round a honey-barrel, and the women came running out of their houses for meal, and sugar, and tea, and all the other things we wanted so badly, but not a solitary eatable thing was there in the load anywhere, and all the packages that I have opened so far seem to consist of clocks, watches, cases of knives, dozens upon dozens of spoons, and a mess of cheap jewellery which would be dear at any price.”
“But there must have been some mistake,” protested Bertha, disposed to take the part of the stranger now, although she had been so very glad to get rid of him. “I know that the poor man thought that he was bringing food to you, because he was so pitifully anxious to get on, and he could not rest at all until I promised that I would drive it over this morning the very first thing. And I certainly should not have left Mrs. Ellis this morning as I did if it had not been that I was so anxious to bring food to you.”
“Then, if it wasn’t the chap who drove the stuff that blundered, I should like to get the one who did, and have him all to myself for about ten minutes. I fancy I could do a great deal towards curing shortness of memory or a taste for practical joking in that time,” said the storekeeper grimly.
“It is a really dreadful business. Whatever will you do, Mr. Semple?” asked Bertha, who, although she did not much care for the storekeeper, was genuinely sorry for his present worry.
“My Dan and young Fricker, that red-headed chap, started for Rownton directly we found out how we had been had. The snow was hard this morning, you see, and would bear. It has been like walking through bran these last few days, and the trail hasn’t got packed yet since the blizzard; but I doubt whether they will get back very easy, for this mist that is creeping over means a top thaw, if I know anything about it, with most likely some more downfall later on.” Mr. Semple looked up at the sky as he spoke, or rather at the white mist which hid the sky from his sight.
“Is there anything that we can let you have, Mr. Semple?” asked Bertha. “We have enough flour for two or three weeks to come, and sugar and tea, also coffee. If any of it will be of any use to you, please take it.”
“Very kind of you, I’m sure, and if Dan hadn’t started for Rownton I don’t say as I mightn’t have taken some, just to keep matters going; but, as it is, why, we’ll just go on eating corn porridge and molasses until the things turn up. It isn’t very appetizing, but I dare say it is wholesome enough,” said Mr. Semple, and then, refusing to come in, he was for turning round and driving back as fast as he could go, but Bertha stopped him, while she enquired of Bill Humphries how Eunice Long was getting on.
“She is picking up slowly. My wife says that she has been getting better ever since two days before Christmas, when you came to see her. She took a turn then, and she has really tried to get on a bit; so you did her a power of good, and if you don’t take care you will be making the doctor jealous,” said Bill Humphries, with his deep, rumbling laugh.
Bertha laughed also as she stood watching the two men driving away into the white mist. It was delightful to hear that Eunice was getting better, and that she herself had had some hand in it; although all that she had done was to scold the invalid for wanting to die. Then she went into the house and told Grace about the disappointing character of the goods in the sledge which she had driven to Pentland Broads that morning, and they laughed together over the absurdity of the blunder, although all the while they were genuinely sorry for the poor people who wanted stores so badly and still had to wait for them.