“Common metre, short metre, six-lines-eights and sometimes a peculiar metre,” said the old man with manifest gratification; “it wor all one to me when I wor i’ that gifted mood. My mother traced it back to her gran’father ’at ’ad been a fearful good hand at a bass fiddle i’ t’ Gurt Revival, and could play any tune o’ Wesley’s in his cups.”
“Aye, there’s been gifts wasted i’ your family, Ambrus; there’s no getting over that,” said Swithin with a solemn headshake, “but none o’ your lot has had t’ gift o’ making brass. Contraireywise, brass pours in to Baldwin same as watter to t’ Cove.”
“But it doesn’t pour out i’ t’ same way,” laughed a younger man. “T’ Cove passes it on to watter t’ land, Swithin. Baldwin hugs it to his-sen.”
“Not so fast, lad,” replied Swithin; “tha wants to make sure ’at that egg tha’s laid isn’t a pot ’un before tha clucks so loud. Has tha never heard tell ’at there’s tremendious deep pits behind t’ Cove ’at’s got to be filled wi’ t’ watter from t’ Tarn before any creeps out into t’ river bed? It serves it-sen, does t’ beck, before it spares owt for anybody else; and all t’ land gets is t’ overflow. Same way wi’ Baldwin.”
He glanced round the company and reading approval in Inman’s eyes allowed his own to suggest what would have been a wink in a more jocund man.
“Nay, nay,” he continued as nobody seemed disposed either to applaud or challenge his contention; “I’m one ’at ’ud go a long way o’ t’ same road wi’ Baldwin ’cause it’s both natur’ and religion. Natur’ seems all for it-sen, and I suppose them ’at set things going ordered it i’ that way.”
“Maniwel wouldn’t say so,” the young man who had spoken before ventured to interpose.
“Maniwel’ll maybe fiddle another tune if Baldwin holds to his word and sacks Jagger,” returned Swithin complacently. “Not but what I’m sorry for Jagger,” he added after a short interval. “As well-meaning a lad as there is i’ t’ village, and as handy wi’ his tools as here and there one. Baldwin can spare Jagger as ill as any.”
It was evident that Swithin had voiced the common opinion, and each man present offered his quota of evidence relating to the skill and even more the conscientiousness of the dismissed workman. Only old Ambrose and Inman remained silent, and the latter scarcely troubled to hide the amused contempt that the recital of his predecessor’s virtues called forth. He was on the point of speaking when there came an interruption from Ambrose, whose features had been working convulsively for some time.
“I’ve got the hang on it,” he said absently: