“Ay, you’re a brave hand at thinking, but I want to do.”
“That will I likewise, so soon as I have thought out what is best to do. I see it not as yet.”
“Lack-a-daisy me! Well, my fine master, I’ll leave you to your thinking, and I’ll get to my doing. As to second and third, I’ll tarry till I reach ’em; but I know what comes first.”
“What mean you to do, Tabitha?”
“I mean to walk up to Briton’s Mead, and give Edward Benden a sweet-sop to his supper. I’ve had a rod in pickle any day this three months, and I reckon ’tis in good conditions by now. I’ll give him some’at he’ll enjoy. If he skrike not afore I’ve done with him—!”
Leaving her sentence the more expressive for its incompleteness, Mistress Tabitha stalked out of the room and the house, not pausing for any farewells.
“Father,” said Christie, a little fearfully, “aren’t you ’feared Aunt Tabitha shall get into prison, the way she talks and runs right at things?”
“Nay, Christie, I scarce am,” said Roger.
He knew that Faithful is brought to the stake in Vanity Fair more frequently than Talkative.
In the dining-room at Briton’s Mead Mr Benden was sitting down to his solitary supper. Of the result of his application to the Bishop he had not yet heard. He really imagined that if Roger Hall could be kept out of her way, Alice would yield and do all that he wished. He gave her credit for no principle; indeed, like many in his day, he would have laughed at the bare idea of a woman having any principle, or being able to stand calmly and firmly without being instigated and supported by a man. Roger, therefore, in his eyes, was the obstacle in the way of Alice’s submission. He did not in the least realise that the real obstacle against which he was striving was the Holy Spirit of God.