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CHAPTER XIV
A MOTION WHICH ENDS IN A MULL
Instead of minding his New-Year pudding, Master
Huckaback carried on so about his mighty grievance,
that at last we began to think there must be something
in it, after all; especially as he assured us that
choice and costly presents for the young people of our
household were among the goods divested. But mother
told him her children had plenty, and wanted no gold
and silver, and little Eliza spoke up and said, 'You
can give us the pretty things, Uncle Ben, when we come
in the summer to see you.'
Our mother reproved Eliza for this, although it was the
heel of her own foot; and then to satisfy our uncle,
she promised to call Farmer Nicholas Snowe, to be of
our council that evening, 'And if the young maidens
would kindly come, without taking thought to smoothe
themselves, why it would be all the merrier, and who
knew but what Uncle Huckaback might bless the day of
his robbery, etc., etc.--and thorough good honest girls
they were, fit helpmates either for shop or farm.' All
of which was meant for me; but I stuck to my platter
and answered not.
In the evening Farmer Snowe came up, leading his
daughters after him, like fillies trimmed for a fair;
and Uncle Ben, who had not seen them on the night of
his mishap (because word had been sent to stop them),
was mightily pleased and very pleasant, according to
his town bred ways. The damsels had seen good company,
and soon got over their fear of his wealth, and played
him a number of merry pranks, which made our mother
quite jealous for Annie, who was always shy and
diffident. However, when the hot cup was done, and
before the mulled wine was ready, we packed all the
maidens in the parlour and turned the key upon them;
and then we drew near to the kitchen fire to hear Uncle
Ben's proposal. Farmer Snowe sat up in the corner,
caring little to bear about anything, but smoking
slowly, and nodding backward like a sheep-dog dreaming.
Mother was in the settle, of course, knitting hard, as
usual; and Uncle Ben took to a three-legged stool, as
if all but that had been thieved from him. Howsoever,
he kept his breath from speech, giving privilege, as
was due, to mother.
'Master Snowe, you are well assured,' said mother,
colouring like the furze as it took the flame and fell
over, 'that our kinsman here hath received rough harm
on his peaceful journey from Dulverton. The times are
bad, as we all know well, and there is no sign of
bettering them, and if I could see our Lord the King I
might say things to move him! nevertheless, I have had
so much of my own account to vex for--'
'You are flying out of the subject, Sarah,' said Uncle
Ben, seeing tears in her eyes, and tired of that
matter.
'Zettle the pralimbinaries,' spoke Farmer Snowe, on
appeal from us, 'virst zettle the pralimbinaries; and
then us knows what be drivin' at.'
'Preliminaries be damned, sir,' cried Uncle Ben, losing
his temper. 'What preliminaries were there when I was
robbed; I should like to know? Robbed in this parish
as I can prove, to the eternal disgrace of Oare and the
scandal of all England. And I hold this parish to
answer for it, sir; this parish shall make it good,
being a nest of foul thieves as it is; ay, farmers, and
yeomen, and all of you. I will beggar every man in
this parish, if they be not beggars already, ay, and
sell your old church up before your eyes, but what I
will have back my tarlatan, time-piece, saddle, and
dove-tailed nag.'
Mother looked at me, and I looked at Farmer Snowe, and
we all were sorry for Master Huckaback, putting our
hands up one to another, that nobody should browbeat
him; because we all knew what our parish was, and none
the worse for strong language, however rich the man
might be. But Uncle Ben took it in a different way.
He thought that we all were afraid of him, and that
Oare parish was but as Moab or Edom, for him to cast
his shoe over.
'Nephew Jack,' he cried, looking at me when I was
thinking what to say, and finding only emptiness, 'you
are a heavy lout, sir; a bumpkin, a clodhopper; and I
shall leave you nothing, unless it be my boots to
grease.'
'Well, uncle,' I made answer, 'I will grease your boots
all the same for that, so long as you be our guest,
sir.'
Now, that answer, made without a thought, stood me for
two thousand pounds, as you shall see, by-and-by,
perhaps.
'As for the parish,' my mother cried, being too hard
set to contain herself, 'the parish can defend itself,
and we may leave it to do so. But our Jack is not like
that, sir; and I will not have him spoken of. Leave
him indeed! Who wants you to do more than to leave him
alone, sir; as he might have done you the other night;
and as no one else would have dared to do. And after
that, to think so meanly of me, and of my children!'
'Hoity, toity, Sarah! Your children, I suppose, are the
same as other people's.'
'That they are not; and never will be; and you ought to
know it, Uncle Reuben, if any one in the world ought.
Other people's children!'
'Well, well!' Uncle Reuben answered, 'I know very
little of children; except my little Ruth, and she is
nothing wonderful.'
'I never said that my children were wonderful Uncle
Ben; nor did I ever think it. But as for being good--'
Here mother fetched out her handkerchief, being
overcome by our goodness; and I told her, with my hand
to my mouth, not to notice him; though he might be
worth ten thousand times ten thousand pounds.
But Farmer Snowe came forward now, for he had some
sense sometimes; and he thought it was high time for
him to say a word for the parish.
'Maister Huckaback,' he began, pointing with his pipe
at him, the end that was done in sealing-wax, 'tooching
of what you was plaized to zay 'bout this here parish,
and no oother, mind me no oother parish but thees, I
use the vreedom, zur, for to tell 'e, that thee be a
laiar.'
Then Farmer Nicholas Snowe folded his arms across with
the bowl of his pipe on the upper one, and gave me a
nod, and then one to mother, to testify how he had done
his duty, and recked not what might come of it.
However, he got little thanks from us; for the parish
was nothing at all to my mother, compared with her
children's interests; and I thought it hard that an
uncle of mine, and an old man too, should be called a
liar, by a visitor at our fireplace. For we, in our
rude part of the world, counted it one of the worst
disgraces that could befall a man, to receive the lie
from any one. But Uncle Ben, as it seems was used to
it, in the way of trade, just as people of fashion are,
by a style of courtesy.
Therefore the old man only looked with pity at Farmer
Nicholas; and with a sort of sorrow too, reflecting how
much he might have made in a bargain with such a
customer, so ignorant and hot-headed.
'Now let us bandy words no more,' said mother, very
sweetly; 'nothing is easier than sharp words, except to
wish them unspoken; as I do many and many's the time,
when I think of my good husband. But now let us hear
from Uncle Reuben what he would have us do to remove
this disgrace from amongst us, and to satisfy him of
his goods.'
'I care not for my goods, woman,' Master Huckaback
answered grandly; 'although they were of large value,
about them I say nothing. But what I demand is this,
the punishment of those scoundrels.'
'Zober, man, zober!' cried Farmer Nicholas; 'we be too
naigh Badgery 'ood, to spake like that of they
Dooneses.'
'Pack of cowards!' said Uncle Reuben, looking first at
the door, however; 'much chance I see of getting
redress from the valour of this Exmoor! And you, Master
Snowe, the very man whom I looked to to raise the
country, and take the lead as churchwarden--why, my
youngest shopman would match his ell against you. Pack
of cowards,' cried Uncle Ben, rising and shaking his
lappets at us; 'don't pretend to answer me. Shake you
all off, that I do--nothing more to do with you!'
We knew it useless to answer him, and conveyed our
knowledge to one another, without anything to vex him.
However, when the mulled wine was come, and a good deal
of it gone (the season being Epiphany), Uncle Reuben
began to think that he might have been too hard with
us. Moreover, he was beginning now to respect Farmer
Nicholas bravely, because of the way he had smoked his
pipes, and the little noise made over them. And Lizzie
and Annie were doing their best--for now we had let the
girls out--to wake more lightsome uproar; also young
Faith Snowe was toward to keep the old men's cups
aflow, and hansel them to their liking.
So at the close of our entertainment, when the girls
were gone away to fetch and light their lanthorns (over
which they made rare noise, blowing each the other's
out for counting of the sparks to come), Master
Huckaback stood up, without much aid from the crock-
saw, and looked at mother and all of us.
'Let no one leave this place,' said he, 'until I have
said what I want to say; for saving of ill-will among
us; and growth of cheer and comfort. May be I have
carried things too far, even to the bounds of
churlishness, and beyond the bounds of good manners. I
will not unsay one word I have said, having never yet
done so in my life; but I would alter the manner of it,
and set it forth in this light. If you folks upon
Exmoor here are loath and wary at fighting, yet you are
brave at better stuff; the best and kindest I ever
knew, in the matter of feeding.'
Here he sat down with tears in his eyes, and called for
a little mulled bastard. All the maids, who were now
come back, raced to get it for him, but Annie of course
was foremost. And herein ended the expedition, a
perilous and a great one, against the Doones of
Bagworthy; an enterprise over which we had all talked
plainly more than was good for us. For my part, I
slept well that night, feeling myself at home again,
now that the fighting was put aside, and the fear of it
turned to the comfort of talking what we would have
done.
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