Everything in the dining-room betokened care and industry, from the nicely-papered walls, adorned with pictures, to the large sideboard, with its display of old china and glassware. The table-linen was spotlessly clean, and the food served up was well cooked. But, notwithstanding this, something seemed wrong. An indefinable atmosphere pervaded the place which spoiled the effect of it all. It was not the corrupted English falling from the lips of these people which grated so harshly upon the senses. It was the spirit of pretence which overshadowed everything--the effort to be what they were not. Had old Titbottom been there with his magic spectacles, he would have beheld in Farrington little more than a roll of bills; in his wife the very essence of pretence and ambition; while the daughter Eudora and their son Dick would be labelled "exact samples" of the parents.
Farrington told of the auction in no measured terms. He was annoyed at the unexpected outcome and did not try to conceal his anger. The inserted exclamations of the family told their own tale. They were much disappointed, especially Mrs. Farrington.
"Only think!" she cried, when her husband had ended, "that the parson above all men should interfere in this matter! Him that's allus talkin' about lovin' our neighbours as ourselves, standin' a-tween us an' our natral rights. I hev often told Eudora, heven't I, dear? that we need a better place than this. Now, that Frenelle homestead is jist what we want, an' it seemed as if the Lord intended we should hev it, too. It is so included from all pryin' eyes, an' away from them country people who are so uncongenial. Their manners are so rough an' they know so little about proper equity. The parson knows very well that we are city bred, an' that our descendants hev allus had good blood in their veins, an' that we try to follow their Example by givin' a tone to the community ever sense we came from the city. He knows what we are a-tryin' to do, an' yit he'll serve us in this mean fashion."
"I wonder where he got the spondulicks," broke in her son Richard.
"Richard, Richard! you must not use sech a word as that," and Mrs. Farrington cast a reproving glance at her son. "Ye must hev heerd it from Tom Jones; ye know ye never hear it at home, fer we are allus very pertickeler about our language."
"Well, money, then, ma. I don't care what ye call it."
"Oh, I guess that'll not be hard to account fer," replied Farrington with a knowing laugh. "Tom Fletcher may be able to throw some light upon the subject. It seems to me that the parson has come to the end of his rope. We've borne with 'im fer years, an' it's about time he was makin' a move. He's too old fer the ministry. We need a young man, with fire an' vim. Anyway, the rest may do as they please, but as fer me not another cent do I pay as long as he is in charge."
"Ye've allus paid well, Si," remarked his wife, "an' the parson is not one bit grateful."
"Yes, I reckon I hev," and Farrington gulped down, his tea. "I used to contribute heavily; eight dollars a year, an' a bag of oats at Christmas. Now I give only four sense I've enlarged my bizness an' can't afford so much. Besides, the parson doesn't deal with me as much as he should. He gits too many of his supplies in the city. If he expects me to paternise 'im he must deal with me. I've told 'im so very plainly on several occasions."
"Ye certainly did yer part, Si," Mrs. Farrington replied. "If all in the parish 'ud do as well there'd be no trouble. It is disgraceful that these country people do not pay more to support the Church. It throws sich a burden upon us. Only think of Mrs. Jimmy Brown buyin' a new Bristles carpet, when the old one was quite good enough. An' her last year's hat could hev been made over as well as not. But, no, it would not do. She had to hev another, which cost quite a penny, so I understand."