“‘You hand me over that there money as Johnson sent ye,’ says he to Tamsine; ‘he must have it back by the next mail. I’ll look after ye now,’ says he. ‘My purse is your purse.’
“An’ though the man could scarce ha’ meant it, for I d’ ’low he was too sensible a chap to hold wi’ settin’ women-folk so much above theirselves as that ’ud shape to, ’twas a handsome thing for ’en to say. Well, Tamsine went to lodge wi’ Mrs. Mayne, for she couldn’t no ways make up her mind to go back to her uncle; an’ she did beg us all not to say a word about the changin’ her plan till the weddin’ was over, but Maria, she did go straight off to Meadways’ wi’ the tale. They were all in a terrible takin’ at first, an’ Mrs. Meadway she came to Mrs. Mayne’s an’ gave her an’ Tamsine a bit of her mind—more, I d’ ’low, on account of the maid not goin’ back to their place than for her takin’ up wi’ another man. ’Twas bringing disgrace on her family, says she.
“Poor Tamsine was in a terrible way, when in walks Jim Taylor, an’ what he said an’ what he did I couldn’t tell ye, but he managed to pacify them all. Meadways all come to the weddin’, an’ Jim was so taken up wi’ Tamsine’s little brothers and sisters, that he took two of ’em out wi’ ’en an’ sent for the others some time after. I d’ ’low he’d ha’ cut off his head for Tamsine.
“Well, that’s the end o’ the tale. Ye’ll agree ’twas a bit queer—the queerest thing as ever did happen to I, though, as I do say, Whitefoot an’ me have a-seen many queer things in our time.”
MRS. SIBLEY AND THE SEXTON.
It was Christmas Eve, and Mrs. Fry was returning home from Branston with a bulging pocket and a piled-up market-basket. Clinging to her skirts was the youngest baby but one, while Selina, her eldest daughter, trundled along the “pram,” the occupant of which was almost smothered amid parcels of various shapes and sizes. The intermediary members of Mrs. Fry’s family straggled between the two, all very clean and tidy and all beaming with good humour. Stanley, indeed, evinced a propensity to tumble into the gutter every now and then, while Wyndham and ’Erbert occasionally delayed the advance of the procession by playfully sparring at each other almost beneath the perambulator wheels. The little cortège made slow progress, for, as Mrs. Fry laughingly observed, it was the hardest job in the world to get a big little family home-along; nevertheless, the general serenity remained undisturbed. It was pleasant enough to loiter on this fine dry afternoon, for the air was clear and crisp, and the roads clean and hard as iron. Even the baby cooed and chuckled as it squinted upwards at its sister from behind the whitey-brown parcel which reposed on its small chest.
The party at length turned off from the high road, and was proceeding tranquilly down the “dip” which led to the small group of cottages of which the Frys’ home made one, when from the farmyard gate on the right a tall woman emerged carrying a jug of milk.
“Be that you, Mrs. Fry? I stepped over to your place an hour ago, but there was no one at home.”
“We all comed out to do a bit o’ Christmas shoppin’, Mrs. Sibley, d’ye see. But I’m sorry I missed ye. Will ye step in and have a drop o’ tea wi’ us? Selina will hurry on and get it ready.”
“No, thank ye,” returned Mrs. Sibley gloomily; “I’ll not go in now, Mrs. Fry—not when all your family’s about. I was a-lookin’ for a word wi’ ’ee confidential-like. I was a-wantin’ for to ax your advice, Mrs. Fry.”