The council was held while the gaiters were being unbuttoned. He must have my room, and I would sleep with Betsey. As to food, it was impossible to send to the butcher; and even if I could have sacrificed my precious Dorking fowls, there would have been scant time to prepare them.
There was nothing for it but to give him the pork chops, intended for our to-morrow’s dinner, and if he did not like them, he might fall back upon poached eggs and rashers.
‘Mind,’ called Charlie, as I dashed into my room to remove my properties and light the fire, so that it might get over its first smoking fit,—‘mind you lock up the cat. He hates them like poison.’
It was so long before the carriage appeared, that I began half to hope, half to fear, it was a false alarm; but at last, just as it was perfectly dark, we heard it stop at the garden gate, and Charlie dashed out to open the fly door, and bring in the guest, who was panting, nervous—almost terrified, at a wild drive, so contrary to all his experiences. When the flyman’s demands had been appeased, and we had got the poor old gentleman out of his wraps, he turned out to be a neat, little, prim-looking London lawyer, clean-shaved, and with an indoor complexion. I daresay Charlie, with his big frame, sunburnt face, curly beard, and loud hearty voice, seemed to him like a kind of savage, and he thought he had got among the Aborigines.
After all, he had written to announce his coming. But he had not calculated on our never getting our letters unless we sent for them. He was the very pink of politeness to me, and mourned so much over putting me to inconvenience that we could only profess our delight and desire to make him comfortable.
On the whole, it went off very well. I gave him a cup of tea to warm and occupy him while the upstairs’ chimney was coming to its senses; and then Charles took him upstairs. He reappeared in precise evening dress, putting us to shame; for Charles had not a dress-coat big enough for him to get into, and I had forgotten to secure my black silk before abandoning my room. We could not ask him to eat in the best kitchen, as was our practice, and he showed himself rather dismayed at our having only one sitting-room, saying he had not thought the cottage such a dog-hole, or known that it would be inhabited by a lady; and then he paid some pretty compliment on the feminine hand evident in the room. We had laid the table before he came down, but the waiting was managed by ourselves, or rather, by Charles, for Mr. Newton’s politeness made him jump up whenever I moved; so that I had to sit still and do the lady hostess, while my brother changed plates and brought in relays of the chops from the kitchen. They were a great success. Mr. Newton eyed them for a moment distrustfully, but Betsey had turned them out beautifully—all fair and delicate with transparent fat, and a brown stripe telling of the gridiron. He refused the egg alternative, and greatly enjoyed them and our Brussels sprouts, speaking highly of the pleasure of country fare, and apologising about the good appetising effects of a journey, when Charlie tempted him with a third chop, the hottest and most perfect of all.
I think we also produced a rhubarb tart, and I know he commended our prudence in having no wine, and though he refused my brother’s ale, seemed highly satisfied with a tumbler of brandy and water, when I quitted the gentlemen to see to the coffee, while they talked over the scheme for farm-buildings, which Charlie had sent up to him.
When I bade him good-night, a couple of hours later, he was evidently in a serene state of mind, regarding us as very superior young people.
In the middle of the night, Betsey and I were appalled by a tremendous knocking on the wall. I threw on a dressing-gown and made for the door, while Betsey felt for the matches. As I opened a crack of the door, Charlie’s voice was to be heard, ‘Yes, yes; I’ll get you some, sir. You’ll be better presently,’ interspersed with heavy groans; then, seeing me wide awake, he begged that Betsey would go down and get some hot water—‘and mustard,’ called out a suffering voice. ‘Oh, those chops!’
Poor Mr. Newton had, it appeared, wakened with a horrible oppression on his chest, and at once attributing it to his unwonted meal of pork chops, he had begun, in the dark, knocking and calling with great energy. Charlie had stumbled in in the dark, not waiting to light a candle, and indeed ours were chiefly lamps, which took time to light. Betsey had hers, however, and had bustled into some clothes, tumbling downstairs to see whether any water were still hot in the copper, Charlie running down to help her, while I fumbled about for a lamp and listened with awe to the groans from within, wondering which of us would have to go for the doctor.