Poor old Masters, ill though he was, chuckled feebly on hearing the marvellous tale, and expressed in quavering tones his belief that his daughter was a-doin’ pretty well for herself.
The girl, who had lived till now absolutely heart-whole, could not repress a certain flutter of excitement, and passed the next few days in a state of expectancy; but Jacob Fowler gave no further sign of life. Though he appeared at church on Sunday, he kept his face religiously turned away from the pretty tax-gatherer’s, and at the conclusion of the service rushed from the door without pausing to look round.
Bethia bit her lip, and instead of dallying a little, as was her custom, to chat with one or other of her acquaintance, hastened home.
“Were Farmer Fowler there, my dear?” inquired her mother.
“Yes, but he didn’t speak to me—he didn’t take a bit of notice of me. Put that notion out of your head, Mother—there’s nothing at all between him and me.”
Soon the attention of the little household was entirely absorbed by a more acute and immediate cause of trouble: poor old Masters, after a brave struggle, and in spite of the adjurations of his neighbours, found himself unable to “hold on”; he loosed his feeble grasp of life suddenly at last, and went out, as his wife sorrowfully remarked, “like the snoff of a candle.”
After the funeral was over, the question of ways and means stared the mother and daughter in the face. Mrs. Masters did a little business—a very little business—with a small general shop; it was quite insufficient to support them. Her health was not good, and Bethia was determined not to leave her; there was no opening for her as a teacher in that village, and such sums as she might earn by taking in sewing would add very little to their modest income. She resolved to make a bold appeal to the Parish Council for permission to continue to fill her father’s place.
“I could do it every bit as well as a man,” she averred. “I have done it during the last few months. The accounts are all in order—I have found no difficulty anywhere. Do let me try, gentlemen.”
The gentlemen in question were at first taken aback, then amused, finally moved. After all, they said to each other, there was no reason why the girl should not try. As long as the duties were discharged exactly and punctually, there was no reason why they should not be undertaken by a woman as well as by a man.
“But there must be no favouritism, Miss Masters,” said one, with a twinkle in his eye; “no letting off of any particular friend. You must be firm, even with your nearest and dearest. If people don’t pay up after two or three applications, you must harden your heart and take out a summons.”