All this to Alfred—and to how many others—was the outward and visible sign of peace, a peace sanctified by time and the labour of countless hands. That such a peace could be imperilled passed the understanding of wiser men than the carrier. Surely it would endure till the end, till eternity.
For ever and ever—Amen!
CHAPTER III
INTRODUCING MRS. MUCKLOW
Susan Yellam rarely left her cottage, and, during week-days, was not too cordial to chance visitors. On Sunday afternoon, however, she was at home to friends, and hospitably glad to offer them the best cup of tea in Nether-Applewhite, and some hot buttered toast which waited for nobody. If a too nice stomach disdained buttered toast, the pangs of hunger could be alleviated with bread and honey (from the hives in the garden) or bread and jam (of Mrs. Yellam's own making). A rich cake was in cut.
Mrs. Yellam had been a Mucklow. And her favourite brother, Habakkuk, had married a Rockley—all of Nether-Applewhite. Mrs. Mucklow generally dropped in on Sunday afternoons, bringing a grievance with her. The Mucklows had not prospered like the Yellams and Rockleys. And this was the more remarkable because the Mucklow men were fine upstanding fellows, reasonably sober, and God-fearing Churchgoers. The ancients of the village affirmed that the brains of the family had been served out in one lump, and given to Susan Yellam.
Upon the Sunday following Alfred's visit to the Vicarage, Mrs. Mucklow, wearing black silk and a bonnet, dropped into the cottage. She was taller than her sister-in-law, and very thin. Invariably she disagreed with everything said by Mrs. Yellam, and yet, oddly enough, the two women remained friends, partly because Susan believed devoutly in the ties of blood, and partly because Jane's rather fatuous contradictions shed searchlights upon Susan's commonsense. Wisdom is comfortably bolstered by the folly of others.
"Well, Jane, how be you?"
Mrs. Mucklow answered dolorously:
"I be no better than I was las' Sunday."