“They wouldn’t allow it for the world. He’s that gay afore me, an’ Phoebe keeps a stiff upper lip, tu; but I go up unexpected now an’ again an’ pop in unawares an’ sees the truth. You with your letter or message aforehand, doan’t find out nothing, an’ won’t.”
“He’m out o’ luck, I allow. What’s the exact reason?”
“You’ll find it in the Book, same as I done. I knaw you set gert store ’pon the Word. Well, then, ’them the Lard loveth He chasteneth.’ That’s why Will’s languishin’ like. ’T won’t last for ever.”
“Ah! But theer’s other texts to other purpose. Not that I want ’e to dream my Phoebe’s less to me than your son to you. I’ve got my eye on ’em, an’ that’s the truth; an’ on my li’l grandson, tu.”
“Theer’s gert things buddin’ in that bwoy.”
“I hope so. I set much store on him. Doan’t you worrit, mother, for the party to Newtake be bound up very close wi’ my happiness, an’ if they was wisht, ban’t me as would long be merry. I be gwaine to give Master Will rope enough to hang himself, having a grudge or two against him yet; then, when the job’s done, an’ he’s learnt the hard lesson to the dregs, I’ll cut un down in gude time an’ preach a sarmon to him while he’s in a mood to larn wisdom. He’s picking up plenty of information, you be sure—things that will be useful bimebye: the value of money, the shortness o’ the distance it travels, the hardness o’ Moor ground, an’ men’s hearts, an’ such-like branches of larning. Let him bide, an’ trust me.”
The mother was rendered at once uneasy and elated by this speech. That, if only for his wife and son’s sake, Will would never be allowed to fail entirely seemed good to know; but she feared, and, before the patronising manner of the old man, felt alarm for the future. She well knew how Will would receive any offer of assistance tendered in this spirit.
“Like your gude self so to promise; but remember he ’m of a lofty mind and fiery.”
“Stiff-necked he be, for certain; but he may graw quiet ’fore you think it. Nothing tames a man so quick as to see his woman and childer folk hungry—eh? An’ specially if ’t is thanks to his awn mistakes.”
Mrs. Blanchard flushed and felt a wave of anger surging through her breast. But she choked it down.