Part 42 (1/2)
”I wonder,” said Fancy, ”how it all comes to them, inventions, such as wireless and--and chloroform as takes away pain.”
Mrs. Yellam chided her, very pleasantly:
”Now, don't 'ee fl.u.s.trate yourself wi' thoughts o' chloryform. I allows that I can answer your question. Inventions comes to they as works hard for 'un. 'Tis hard work, and nothing else.”
”Uncle would call it--fool-wisdom.”
”Fool-wisdom?”
Fancy explained. Mrs. Yellam listened attentively, shaking her head from time to time. Uncle's position, to-day, would be as financially sound as her own, had he worked hard at his calling, and spent less time on crack-brained speculations and less good money on ale. She said as much, derisively. Fancy said:
”How does Solly know when you turn the corner by the mill?”
”Dog's instinct.”
”Maybe 'tis the same thing.”
”Fiddle!”
Fancy refrained from pressing the point, but something told her that Uncle was right, and his clever, practical sister wrong. One thing was delightfully certain. Happiness had made Mrs. Yellam kind. And it filled her with piety. She walked proudly with the Lord, carrying a high head.
She had forgiven William Saint his trespa.s.ses, and expressed a trenchant conviction that Satan had removed his headquarters from Nether-Applewhite to Ocknell. And she was equally sure that Alfred would be home for Christmas, because her troubles had come in battalions at midsummer.
”Turn and turn about be only fair,” she told Fancy.
Fancy said hesitatingly:
”The cards told true before, didn't they?”
”Ah-h-h! I don't pin my faith to they, child. I be weather-wise, not fool-wise. We has spells o' wet and spells o' dry. It be dry now, and likely to remain so, I reckons.”
Fancy nodded, quite willing to believe that the Yellam barometer would stay, for a long spell, at ”Set Fair.”
After supper, when the kitchen was in perfect order, Mrs. Yellam sat knitting beside Fancy. Solomon lay at the feet of his mistress. The logs burned briskly, another evidence of coming frost. Sparks burst out of them, dazzling scintillations, miniature fireworks. Mrs. Yellam was impressed by this pyrotechnic display.
”It minds me of when Master Lionel come of age. I hopes they logs'll burn like that when Alferd is sittin' here, wi' a baby on his knee.”
Mrs. Yellam appeared so satisfied with life in general that Fancy hesitated to disturb the peace, but impulse was too strong for her.
”Solly acted very queer all day.”
”Did he now?”
”Hardly touched his nice dinner.”
”Well, well, times he takes a notion to scrummage in dustheaps, the lil'
scavenger! 'Tis the male in him, I reckons. And far-seein'. He do take a squint into the future, seemin'ly.”
Fancy stared at Mrs. Yellam, slightly startled.
”He buries bones and beastliness all over my garden. I caught 'un wi' a cod's head, and cuffed his, I did.”