He thought he never saw anything so lonesome and silent as the same road, lying still before and behind him, and white with dust. It was the summer season of the year.
“If I go back,” thought he to himself, “I’m very apt to be missing her at some cross-roads! It’s what she has took the wrong turn at one of them, and not too far back ... it can’t be! for it’s not long since she got me to steady the churn-dash in the back of the cart, the way it wouldn’t be prodding into her back. The first man she meets will set her right. In any case, I’d have little to do, to go look for her ...” (and indeed Peetcheen was right there!) “for I’d have to take the two little heifers with me. And that might be putting a couple of miles more travelling on them. They’ll be slaved and tired enough, against I have them home. And if I was to leave them here by themselves, while I’d be going back for her, mightn’t I be summonsed? That wouldn’t answer! No! it’s better for me to wait here and see won’t she come along all right. And there is lots of good grass, that the cattle can be having a little fossick[8] for themselves and a rest.”
Peetcheen was right in this. There was plenty of feeding for the beasts there, going to loss, that they might as well have. Besides, when two people go astray from one another, the best chance they have of coming together again is for one of them to stop still. Peetcheen was thick in the wits, but he thought of this. Besides, to do nothing was the easiest for him. So he just sat down on a fine dry heap of stones that was lying there ready for the road-contractor, filled his pipe, and began to smoke. He might as well.
He had not finished that pipe altogether, when he heard the sound of wheels. Along came the jennet, and Julia hard at work, prodding him with the point of her umbrella, with her face very red, and her hair all every way. It didn’t cool her a bit, to see Peetcheen sitting at his ease, with his pipe, in the shade of a fine ash-tree.
“Where were you at all,” he said, getting up quite slowly off the stones; “and what ailed you, to be so long after me upon the road?”
“What ailed me, indeed!” said the wife; “much you care! Stravaguing on there in front of me, without a thought of what was becoming of me and the jennet. And I bawlin’ me livin’ best when I got to the cross-roads, and couldn’t get you to hear! How was I to know which way you went? Faith, I was in two minds to go off back home again! only for you having the two little heifers! And you lettin’ on not to hear me! Is it deaf you are, along with everything else? And then the jennet, to take and go stop on me, and I with the full up of me lap of me good cups and saucers, so that I wasn’t able to stir, to get any good of the beast! And then he gives a h’ise, and me fine big crock, that I have this ten years and was bringing it with me, got bruk in two halves! And you, standin’ there, with yer mouth open...!”
As if shutting his mouth would mend her crockery! But it vexed Julia the more, that Peetcheen said nothing.
“To the mischief with the whole of them! and you, too!” she said, then; and began flinging the rest of the crockery at Peetcheen, as hard as she could; at least, that was what she thought of. But of course she didn’t hit him; a woman never does; the thing she aims for is the last thing she’ll strike. But she fired one after the other, pell-mell, till she had all the cups smashed. And what else could she expect of cups flung about like that? I don’t know; only when she saw them in bits, she turned queer, and dropped down into the bottom of the cart, and began to laugh and cry all together, as if she was mad.
The sight of this cowed Peetcheen. He stooped down, and began turning over the bits of crockery, to see if e’er a one of them had escaped. But no! Not a cup or plate of all Julia’s set but was broken into smithereens.
Peetcheen still said nothing. He took the jennet by the head, started the cattle on again, and followed himself with the cart.