"Perhaps you are cold," said Mrs. Dare. "I asked you what Delves was going to do. Will he accuse Halliburton?"
"Be still!" sharply cried Mr. Dare in a tone of pain. "The matter is to be hushed up. It was not Halliburton."
CHAPTER XXI.
A PRESENT OF TEA-LEAVES.
How went on Honey Fair? Better and worse, better and worse, according to custom; the worse prevailing over the better.
Of all its inhabitants, none had advanced so well as Robert East. Honestly to confess it, that is not saying much; since the greater portion, instead of advancing in the world's social scale, had retrograded. Robert had left the manufactory he had worked for and was now second foreman at Mr. Ashley's. He was also becoming through perseverance an excellent scholar in a plain way. He had had one friend to help him; and that was William Halliburton.
The Easts had removed to a better house; one of those which had a garden in front of it. No garden was more fragrant than theirs; and it was kept in order by Robert and Thomas East. The house was larger than they required, and part of it was occupied by Stephen Crouch and his daughter. It was known that the Easts were putting by money: and Honey Fair wondered: for none lived more comfortably, more respectably. Honey Fair—taking it as a whole—lived neither comfortably nor respectably. The Fishers had never come out of the workhouse, and Joe was dead. The Crosses, turned from their home, their furniture sold, had found lodgings; two rooms. Improvident as ever, were they. They did not attempt to rise even to their former condition; but grovelled on, living from hand to mouth. The Masons, man and wife, passed their time agreeably in quarrels. At least, that it was agreeable may be assumed, for the quarrels never ceased. Now and then they were diversified by a fight. The children were growing up without training; and Caroline—ah! I don't know that it will do much good to ask after her. Caroline, years ago, had taken a false step; and, try as she would, she could not regain her footing. She lived in a garret alone. She had so lived a long while; and she worked her fingers to the bone to keep body and soul together, and went about with her head down. Honey Fair looked askance at her, and gathered up its petticoats when they saw her coming, as you saw Eliza Tyrrett gather up hers, lest they should come into contact with those contaminations. The Carters thrived; the Brumms, also, were better off than they used to be; and the Buffles did so excellently that a joke went about that they would be retiring on their fortune: but the greater portion of Honey Fair was full of trouble and improvidence.
William Halliburton frequently found himself in Honey Fair. It was the most direct road from his house to that of Monsieur Colin, the French master. William, sociably inclined by nature, had sometimes dropped in at one or other of the houses. He would find Robert East labouring at his books much more than he need have laboured had some little assistance been given him in his progress. William good-naturedly undertook to supply it. It became quite a common thing for him to go round and pass an hour with the Easts and Stephen Crouch.
The unpleasant social features of Honey Fair thus obtruded themselves on William Halliburton's notice; it was impossible that any one passing much through Honey Fair should not be struck with them. Could nothing be done to rescue the people from this degraded condition?—and a degraded one it was, compared with what it might have been. Young and inexperienced as he was, it was a question that sometimes arose to William's mind. Dirty homes, scolding mothers, ragged and pining children, rough and swearing husbands! Waste, discomfort, evil. The women laid the blame on the men: reproached them with wasting their evenings and their money at the public-house. The men retorted upon the women, and said they had not a home "fit for a pig to come into." Meanwhile the money, whether earned by husband or wife, went. It went somehow, bringing apparently nothing to show for it, and the least possible return of good. Thus they struggled and squabbled on, their lives little better than one continued scene of scramble, discomfort, and toil. At a year's end they were not in the least bettered, not in the least raised, socially, morally, or physically, from their condition at the year's commencement. Nothing had been achieved; except that they were one year nearer to the great barrier which separates time from eternity.