“Dear me,” said Mary aghast, “I really thought I—”
“Oh! You thought they were teetotalers here: well, you should know that it is a common custom in these parts to put rum or other spirits into the tea, especially when people have company. Now, Hodges and his wife are not content with putting spirits into the tea, but they put them into everything: into their bread, and their ham, and into their eggs.”
Mrs Franklin looked partly dismayed and partly puzzled.
“Yes, it is true, madam. The fact is simply this: the spirits which my good tenants distil are made up of four ingredients—diligence, good temper, honesty, and total abstinence; and that is what makes everything they have to be so good of its kind.”
“I wish we had more distilleries of this kind,” said Mrs Franklin, smiling.
“So do I, madam; but it is a sadly dishonest, unfaithful, and self-indulgent age, and the drink has very much to do with it, directly or indirectly. Here, Sam,” to the farmer and his wife who had just re-entered the kitchen, “do you and your mistress come and draw up your chairs, and give us a little of your thoughts on the subject; there’s nothing, sometimes, so good as seeing with other people’s eyes, specially when they are the eyes of persons who look on things from a different level of life.”
“Why, Mayster Tankardew,” said the farmer, “it isn’t for the likes of me to be giving my opinion of things afore you and these ladies; but I has my opinion, nevertheless.”
“Of course you have. Now, tell us what you think about the young people of our day, and their self-indulgent habits.”
“Ah! Mayster! You’re got upon a sore subject; it is time summut was done, we’re losing all the girls and boys, there’ll be none at all thirty years hence.”
“Surely you don’t mean,” said Mrs Franklin anxiously, “that there is any unusual mortality just now among children.”