It was most of it on the Squire’s side, and the words “title deeds,� “unentailed,� and “mortgage� occurred over and over again. Then “unpaid,� “due notice,� “neglected,� and, finally, “foreclosure.� Perhaps it was father’s giving a hollow groan at this, and being seen by me through the crack of the library door to tear his hair, beautifully white, without tearing any of it out, that made me listen. At any rate, I left Roddy busy with the coat, and—any other boy, even a Parksop by birth, would have done as much under the circumstances.
Well, I made out that Squire Braddlebury had got father on toast. It became quite plain to me, boy as I was, that he could, whenever he chose, strip us of the last remaining hundreds of our old acres, and send us, generally, packing to Old Gooseberry—with a word. Then he asked father why he thought he didn’t say the word then and there? and father said something about respect for ancient title and hereditary something or other; and Squire Braddlebury, who had made his vulgar money in trade, said ancient title and hereditary something or other might be dee’d. And then——
“I’ll tell you why, Parksop,� he blustered. “It’s because of your girl! When you came to me for money to waste on your gobbling, selfish old self, caring, not you, not one snap whether your family went bare for the rest o’ their lives, so long as you got what you wanted for the rest of yours, I lent you the cash on your title deeds, signed by Edward Plantagenet—and more fool he to waste good land on you! I lent you the cash, I say, because I knew you’d not come up to the mark when pay day came, and I wanted your girl. What’s that you say? Belle! Not if I know it! Sandy hair and aquiline profiles don’t agree with me. I mean Miss Charlotte. She’s a fine, full figure of a woman; she’s a good ’un, too! Don’t I know how she keeps your house a-going? Don’t I know how she makes and mends, plans and contrives, teaches the children when your foreign governesses take French leave, because they can’t get their wages out of you, Parksop, and does the Lord knows what besides! I shouldn’t have spoken so soon, but another fellow’s got his eye on her—Noel, the parson—you know who I mean. I believe they’re secretly engaged, or something.�
“Gracious Heavens!� cried father.
“If they are,� growled the Squire, “it don’t matter. We’ll soon put the curate to the right-about, and on the day I take her to church you’ll get your title deeds back. You’re reasonable, I see. It’s a bargain. So go and fetch her, Parksop; go and fetch her.�
There was a scroop and shriek of overstrained springs and tortured leather. The Squire had thrown himself into father’s armchair. I had only time to drag Roddy behind the green baize door that shuts off the servants’ wing from the rest of the house, when father came out of the library.
III
The whole house was topsy-turvy. The secret of the mortgage was out, for one thing. Everybody knew that the Squire had proposed to Podge, that Podge had said “No� to him, in spite of father’s dignified commands, and that the Squire had rushed out of the house, foaming at the mouth, with his coat half on and half off, stormed his way round to the stables, where he saddled his horse himself, and galloped homeward, scattering objurgations, threats, and imprecations right and left.
“Stuck-up paupers! Make Parksop know better! Sell ’em up, stick and stone! Prefer d—d curate to me, Thomas Braddlebury! Fool! Must be crazy!�
Roddy and I and everybody else agreed with him, except Podge. She was regularly downright obstinate. She had given in to all of us all her life, and now, just when her giving in meant so much, she wouldn’t. What was the good of beginning, we asked, if she didn’t intend to go on? We were very severe with her, because she deserved it. Falling in love at her size—like a milkmaid—and with an elderly curate—an old-young man, with shabby clothes and a stoop! Belle had put up with his staring at our pew when he read the Litany on Sundays, but now that she was quite sure he hadn’t been doing it because of her, she regarded it as an unpardonable insult. She stirred up father to write to the Rector demanding Mr. Noel’s instant dismissal, and the Rector sent back an old, unsettled claim for tithe money, and referred father to the Bishop of the diocese.