[CHAPTER II.]
LITTLE CRAY is one of the quaintest and quietest of English villages, but is only three miles from a large market town. It is made up, with two exceptions, of farmhouses and labourers' cottages. The latter, somewhat rude in construction, with thatched roofs and whitewashed walls, are picturesque to look upon, and exquisitely clean; a little bare-looking in winter, but in summer every cottage garden teems with old-fashioned flowers. Roses, honeysuckle, white-starred jasmine, canary and Virginia creepers, and the humbler nasturtium vie in throwing veils across the little porches, or spreading along the gables, or clambering over the thatch itself. And from amongst the trees that have stood for centuries the massive square tower of Little Cray Church can be seen for many a mile.
The rector, Mr. Worthington, does not reside in the village. Little Cray is the mother parish, but she has a daughter church much larger than herself, and vastly more fashionable. The place is near the coast, and what was once a cluster of fishermen's huts, has of late years developed into quite a fashionable watering-place. A large modern church has been built to meet the requirements thereof, and thither the rector has migrated to minister to a crowded congregation whilst the season lasts—at all times to a much more numerous one than is ever found within the ancient walls at Little Cray.
The new rectory house, with modern surroundings and comforts, is better suited to the needs of his family than the old dwelling in the village.
So this accounts for our curate's possession of a house to himself, and he is master of that ivy-covered domicile which peeps modestly out from among the trees near the old church tower.
I said he was master, but I am not quite sure of this. When he came to Little Cray, he was rather doubtful as to whether he should occupy the rectory or not. Certainly, he could not afford to furnish it, and there would be a difficulty about finding lodgings, as none had been required there within the memory of Little Cray's oldest inhabitant.
But the rector and his curate, though both young men, were old friends. The former was the elder, and he had been ordained and had married early. He was in Arthur's confidence as to the demands on his purse, and he thought he could solve the difficulty.
"There is a lot of furniture in the old house which I do not wish to remove, as we are having new in place of it. I should be grateful if you would allow it to stay. It suits this place and would not suit the new one. The house is just the spot for a brain-weary man to rest in—not good enough for you in any other respect, my dear fellow, and you will not stop here long. I can help you to make an arrangement which will be an immense accommodation to a worthy couple, and will, I think, just meet your views."
Whereupon Mr. Worthington introduced a comely matron, named Esther Morris, whose husband had obtained work in Little Cray, but could not find an empty cottage in which to locate his family. There were husband, wife, and two white-headed, sunburnt urchins, for whom it was guaranteed that they were "very bidable, knew manners, would not disturb the passon, and a look was enough to snub them."
Esther had been a servant at Little Cray Rectory before Mr. Worthington's time. It would be like coming home again if she were to keep house for the curate. Her household goods would furnish the part occupied by her family; those left by the rector, with Arthur's books and many pretty fancy articles made by the nimble fingers of his young sisters, would render the other portion all that he could desire.