“It’s the sign of the ‘Goose,’ and stands just a little way off from the water-side.”
“The Goose” sounded countryfied and homelike, and being near the water would be pleasant, and the landlord and landlady being Somersetshire people would also be pleasant.
“Be it a dear plaace?” he inquired.
“Oh, no; dirt cheap.”
“Ah, that air dirt cheap I doan’t like—I likes it a bit clean like.”
“Oh, yes, clean as a smelt—clean as ever it can be; and I’ll bespeak your lodgings for you if you like, and all.”
“Well, thankee, sir, thankee,” said the farmer, shaking hands with the youth, and giving him a half-sovereign.
“I be proud to know thee.” And thus they parted: Horatio returning to his office, and Mr. Bumpkin driving home at what is called a “shig-shog” pace, reflecting upon all the events that had transpired during that memorable day.
Pretty much the same as ever went on the things at the farm, and the weeks passed by, and the autumn was over, and Christmas Day came and went, and the Assizes came and went, and Bumpkin v. Snooks alone in all the world seemed to stand still. One day in the autumn a friend of Mr. Prigg’s came and asked the favour of a day’s fishing, which was granted with Mr. Bumpkin’s usual cordiality. He was not only to fish on that day, but to come whenever he liked, and make the house his “hoame, like.” So he came and fished, and partook of the hospitality of the homely but plentiful table, and enjoyed himself as often as he pleased. He was a most agreeable man, and knew how to talk. Understood a good deal about agriculture and sheep breeding, and quite enjoyed a walk with Mr. Bumpkin round the farm. This happened five or six times during the autumn. He was reticent when Mr. Bumpkin mentioned the lawsuit, because he knew so little about legal proceedings. Nor could Mr. Bumpkin “draw him out” on any point. Nothing could be ascertained concerning him except that he had a place in Yorkshire, and was in London on a visit; that he had known Mr. Prigg for a good many years, and always “found him the same.” At last, the month of February came, and the long expected letter from Mr. Prigg. Bumpkin and Joe were to be in London on the following day, for it was expected they would be in the paper. What a flutter of preparation there was at the farm! Bumpkin was eager, Mrs. Bumpkin anxious.
She had never liked the lawsuit, but had never once murmured; now she seemed to have a presentiment which she was too wise to express. And she went about her preparations for her husband’s leaving with all the courage she could command. It was, however, impossible entirely to repress her feelings, and now and again as she was packing the flannels and worsted stockings, a tear would force its way in spite of all she could do.