“Strange,” Mrs. Andrews occasionally murmured at this moment, for the coincidence never failed to strike her, “Stuckhey and Stickly—the two names do sound very much alike. ’Tis odd how things do come about—ye chose Stickly, and it mid jist as well ha’ been Stuckhey.”
To this profound remark Mrs. Stickly would probably assent, and would then continue:—
“E—es, a lot o’ us young folks did set off for Shroton Fair that day. There was me, and Annie Boyt, Tom’s sister, and Rose Paddock; and there was Tom, and ’Neas, and my John—that’s Stickly, though I didn’t call him my John then—and a young man from Shillingstone, whose name I can’t mind at the present time, but he was a-coortin’ of Annie. And as we did all want to go together, Tom and Annie did persuade their father to let ’em take one o’ his waggons; so we did have two harses wi’ bells to their harness, and what wi’ the bells, and what wi’ the maids singin’, and the lads shoutin’, and the waggon rattlin’, and the harses’ feet a-hammerin’ the road, I can tell ’ee we did make some noise as we was a-goin’ along. The folks turned to look at us as we droved through the villages, and the childern did run after us, and did cry out ‘Bring us a fairin’, folks! Bring us a fairin’ from Shroton!’ And Tom did say—Tom was al’ays free wi’ his money—he did call out, ‘Well, be good childern; we’ll mayhap bring you back a few ginger-nuts.’
“Well, we was the best o’ friends, an’ so merry as ever we could be. I had a bonnet lined wi’ pink and a pink ribbon to tie it wi’, and a pink sash—folks did wear sashes then—and a frock—ah, I can call to mind that frock! It were the purtiest I ever did have in my life; there was little bunches o’ roses all over it a-tied together wi’ knots o’ blue ribbon—not real blue ribbon, ye know—’twas just the pattern on the stuff, but they was wonderful purty. My mother did say to I when I was a-gettin’ it out, ‘Ye’ll scarce be warm enough in that, Maria’; and I did say, ‘Oh, e—es, mother, I’ll be warm enough—there be so many on us a-goin’ we’ll keep each other warm.’ And mother didn’t say nothin’, but she just went to her box, and she did take out her best shawl as she’d been married in, and she did say, ‘There, my maid, ’ee can take that too; for thou art a careful maid and won’t let it come to harm.’
“Well, as I say, we was a merry crew! Dear heart alive, that was we! There be times, Mrs. Andrews, when I be sittin’ here so lonesome by the fire, an’ I do say to myself, ‘Was that really me—that vitty young maid! (for I were reckoned a handsome maid in those days, Mrs. Andrews) as rode in the big waggon that sunshiny day?’ Thinks I to myself, ‘It can never have been me—I must ha’ dreamed it’; and then I do look up and see the rosy plate shinin’ in the firelight, and I do say to myself, ‘Well, it were I, arter all’; and it’s somethin’ to think as a body was once so young an’ so merry.”
“True, true,” her neighbour would agree. “But you was a-tellin’ me about the childern a-runnin’ arter the waggon—I suppose it did not take you so very long to get to Shroton?”
“Nay, we did get there early in the forenoon, and then John did want me to go and see the harses jump, and the others was all for goin’ straight off on the roundabouts. ‘I’ll treat ye, Maria,’ says Tom. ‘And thank you kindly, Tom,’ says I. And then I did turn round and see poor John a-lookin’ very downhearted, so I did smile at en over my shoulder, and did say, soft like, ‘Do ’ee come, too, John.’
“‘Nay,’ says John, very quiet. ‘I think not, Maria. Two be company, and three be none, ye know.’ ‘Oh, well,’ says I, just to tease en, ‘if you like to see your old harses jumpin’ better nor to ride along of I, so ye may for all I care. Which be the way, Tom?’
“‘Why, don’t ’ee hear the music over there?’ says Tom; but ’twas hard to hear anythin’ the way the folks was a-talkin’ and a-laughin’; and what wi’ the shootin’, and the knockin’ down cocoa-nuts, and the roundabouts all a-playin’ different tunes at the same time, and the showmen shoutin’, and the drums a-beatin’, the noise was enough to dather a body.
“‘Take my arm,’ says Tom; and Annie did pair off with her young man, and Rose did catch hold o’ ’Neas as bold as brass, though he looked a bit glum, I can tell ’ee, for ’twere me as he wanted, d’ye see? And poor John were left all alone. I were feelin’ vexed, I suppose, but now, when I do look back on that day, it do seem to I as if I must ha’ been mad. My mother ’ud ha’ scolded if she’d a-known how I did behave that day. First I did go in the roundabout wi’ Tom, and then I did have another ride wi’ ’Neas, and there was Rose a-lookin’ on very cross, for Tom wouldn’t treat her; and the crosser she did look the more I did toss my head and laugh and talk wi’ ’Neas, and then ’twas Tom’s turn to pull a long face.