Mad Shepherds, and Other Human Studies

by L. P. Jacks

"Let's see—where was I?" said Perryman.

"You'd come to the place where you met the parson and his lady in the churchyard," I said.

"Ha, so I had," replied the farmer. "I can see her at this very minute just as she was. She looked——"

"Never mind what she looked like: tell us what she said," interrupted Mrs. Perryman.

"She says, 'Good-morning, Mr. Perryman. How much?'—looking 'ard at my 'at all the time. I guessed she was up to some devilry, so I thought I would put her wrong a bit. 'A guinea, ma'am,' says I. She looks at my 'at again and says, 'Mr. Perryman, you've been took in. Twelve-and-six would have been more than enough for that 'at.' 'Oh,' says I to myself, 'you've been nosing round already, 'ave you?' I suppose I must have looked a bit foolish like—I'm sure I felt it,—but she didn't give me no time to speak. 'Wouldn't you like to have that guinea back in your pocket?' says she, putting a funny sound on the 'guinea.' 'Yes,' I says; 'and, what's more, I mean to get it back.' 'Oh indeed,' says she, and a look come into her face as though she was putting two and two together. After a bit she says, 'Mr. Perryman, was that your trap that drove by about half-past seven last night?' 'Yes,' I says; and I might have known from that minute she was going to do a down on me.

"However, I'd made up my mind how I was goin' to get that money back, and I wasn't goin' to change for nobody. You must understand there's a weekly offertory in our church. There was a lot of objection when Parson started it years ago. But, you see, he's always been a bit 'Igh." ("Much too High for me," here interposed Mrs. Perryman.) "Yes, I've warned him about it several times. 'Mr. Abel,' I says to him, 'you're 'Igh enough already. Now, you take my advice, and don't you get no 'Igher.' That was when he started the offertory.

"Well, I'm the sort of man that when I gives, I gives. Ever since the offertory was begun my missis puts a two-shillin' piece into the waistcoat-pocket of my Sunday suit—don't you, Sally?" (Sally nodded)—"regular every Monday morning when she brushes my clothes, so there's no doubt about its being there when Sunday comes. That's for collection.

"And now you can understand my plan. I'd made up to give one shillin' instead o' two, Sunday by Sunday, till I'd paid for my new box-hat. That's how I was goin' to get even with the Church.

"I kep' it up regular for twelve weeks, counting 'em off one by one. I didn't bother about the sixpence. Meanwhile two or three other farmers, not wanting to be put in the shade by me—or more likely it was their missises—had begun to wear box-hats o' Sunday. There was Tom Henderson, who's no more fit to wear a box-hat than his bull is; and there was old Charley Shott—know him?—a man with a wonderful appetite for pig-meat is old Charley Shott. It would ha' made you die o' laughin' to see old Charley come shufflin' up the church just like this" (here the farmer executed an imitative pas seul), "sit down in his seat, and say his prayers into his box-hat same as I'm doing now." (He took Tall Hat the Second from the table, and poured—or rather puffed—an imaginary petition into its interior.)

"Now, listen to what happened next. The very day after I'd put the last shillin' into the plate—that was three months, you must remember, after I'd bought the 'at—up comes a note from the cook at the Rectory, saying as the weekly order for butter was to be reduced from six pounds to five. 'I suppose it's because Master Norman's goin' to boarding school,' I says to the missis. 'Not it,' says she, 'one mouth more or less don't make no difference in a big household like that. Besides, they're not the people to cut it fine.' 'I wonder what it means,' I says. But I hadn't long to wait. About a fortnight later I met old Charley Shott and says to him, jokin' like, 'Well, Charley, how much did you pay for your Sunday box-hat?' 'Cost me nothing,' said Charley laughin'. 'I've run up a little bill against his Reverence for that 'at. And, what's more, I've made him pay it! By the way,' says he, 'what's become o' their appetites down at the Rectory? We've just received warnin' as no more poultry'll be wanted till further orders.' 'I don't know,' says I; but it was a lie, for it come over me in a flash what it all meant. Even then, however, I wasn't quite sure.