Part 40 (2/2)
This was not the spirit of the hour, however.
”I was gwaine to say that out of all our happiness an' fortune we might let a little bubble awver for Chris--eh? She'm such a gude gal, an' you love her so dearly as what I do a'most.”
Phoebe read the project in a flash, but yet invited her husband to explain.
”What d'you mean?” she asked distrustfully and coldly.
”I can see in your face you knaw well enough. That four-hunderd-odd pound. I've sometimes thought I should have given Chris a bit of the windfall when first it comed. But now--well, theer's this cruel coil failed on 'em. You knaw the hardness of waiting. 'Twould be a butivul thing to let 'em marry an' feel't was thanks to us.”
”You want to go giving them money?”
”Not 'give' 'zactly. Us'll call it a loan, till the time they see their way clearer.”
Phoebe sighed and was silent for a while.
”Poor dears,” she said at length. ”I feel for 'em in my heart, same as you do; yet somehow it doan't look right.”
”Not right, Phoebe?”
”Not wise, then. Remember what you say the winters be up here--such dreary months with no money coming in and all gwaine out to keep life in the things.”
”'Tis a black, bitin' business on the high farms--caan't deny that.”
”Money flies so.”
”Then let some fly to a gude end. You knaw I'm a hard, keen man where other people be concerned, most times.”
His wife laughed frankly, and he grew red.
”d.a.m.n it, Phoebe, doan't you take me like that else you'll get the rough edge of my tongue. 'Tis for you to agree with what I'm pleased to say, not contradict it. I _be_ a hard, keen man, and knaws the value of money as well as another. But Chris is my awn sister, an' the long an' the short is, I'm gwaine to give Clem Hicks a hunderd pound.”
”Will! It's not reasonable, it's not fair--us working so hard an'--an'--”
”They 'm to have it, anyway.”
Her breath caught in a little, helpless gasp. Without a word she picked up the material in her hands, huddled it up, and thrust it across the table towards him. Then the pa.s.sion faded out of his face, his eyes softened and grew dreamy, he smiled, and rubbed his brown cheek with the flannel.
”My awn, li'l clever woman, as have set about the fas.h.i.+oning of a bairn so soon! G.o.d bless 'e, an' bless 'e an' be gude to 'e, an' the wee thing coming!”
He put his arm round her and patted her hair and purred softly to her; whereupon she relented and kissed him.
”You knaw best, Will, dearie; you nearly allus knaw best; but your heart's bigger 'n your pocket--an' a li'l child do call so loud for the spendin' o' money.”
”Aye, I knaw, I knaw; 'tis a parent's plaace to stand up for his offspring through fire an' water; an' I reckon I won't be the worst faither as ever was, either. I can mind the time when I was young myself. Stern but kind's the right rule. Us'll bring un up in the proper way, an' teach un to use his onderstandin' an' allus knuckle down 'fore his elders. To tell 'e truth, Phoebe, I've a notion I might train up a cheel better'n some men.”
”Yes, Will, I think so, tu. But 'tis food an' clothes an' li'l boots an'
such-like comes first. A hunderd pounds be such a mort o' money.”
”'Twill set 'em up in a fair way.”
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