Part 21 (1/2)

We were all gathered round now; not a soul was left in the roadway, and the flower-beds were suffering.

”But why?” I persisted. ”What makes you so very anxious to have it?

You shall have another just as fine. Why do you want this particular one so badly?”

He shook his head, and raised his sleeve to his brow with the old nervous, familiar action.

”Cannot you tell me?” I asked.

Then the answer came, low but clearly heard by everybody: ”_Shoo_ liked it!”

The shame of the confession made him shake from head to foot, but the revelation of unsuspected deeps thrilled us, every one, and set us on fire with indignation and contempt.

”You heard him!” I said, turning to Barjona. ”Now listen! I will give you five pounds for that rose-bush.”

”That--tree--will--bide--where--it--is,” replied Barjona doggedly.

There was a movement in the crowd as a raging woman forced her way through. She was hatless, like the rest of us, but her arms were bare to the elbows. Until I noticed the tightly-coiled hair I did not recognise Barjona's wife, for the usually pleasant face was clouded in storm.

She strode up to her husband and seized him by the collar of his coat with both hands.

”You heartless rascal!” she hissed in his ears; ”so this is your blessed secret 'at you've kept for a surprise, is it? I'll surprise ye, ye good-for-nowt old Jew. What do ye mean by it, eh?” She shook him as if he had been a lad of ten, and he was helpless in her grip.

”You leave me alone!” he threatened, but all the brag was gone from him.

”Leave--you--alone!” she hissed between her clenched teeth; ”I wish to G.o.d I had; but I took ye for better or worse, an' it isn't goin' to be all worse, I can tell ye! I hearkened to ye while I could 'earken no longer. The Lord gi' me grace to keep my 'ands off o' ye!”

It was a remarkably futile prayer, seeing that she was holding him as in a vice, and shaking him at intervals.

”D'ye think I'd ever live 'ere, an' let a poor old man like Ted fend for hisself anywhere? What do ye take me for? Ye knew better than to tell me while ye'd gotten yer dirty work done, but thank the Lord I was just in time. 'Ere, get away! I'm stalled o' talkin' to ye!”

She pushed him away roughly, but he made one more sulky struggle for mastery.

”Are ye t' boss 'ere, or am I?” he growled; ”I've bought it ... an'

I'll live in it.”

”Will ye?” she said with scorn, ”then ye'll live by yersen. But I'll show ye who's t' boss. You may thank the Lord 'at ye've got a wife wi'

a bit o' gumption. Ye shall be t' master when ye can master yersen.

I'm fair shamed o' ye! We'll 'appen live 'ere when owt 'appens Ted, but never as long as 'e wants it; so that's flat!”

The crowd cheered, and Maria brightened visibly. ”Nay, to be sure, Miss 'Olden, an' friends,” she said, ”to think 'at any 'usband o' mine should disgrace hisself an' me i' this fas.h.i.+on! I never knew a word, believe me, while 'alf an hour sin' when I chanced across young Smiddles, an' he let into me right an' left. I can tell you I didn't let t' gra.s.s grow under my feet afore I set off 'ere. Don't you fret, Ted, lad! Turn ye out? Not we! Sitha, Barjona's fair shamed of hisself, an' well he might be. Nay, to be sure, I stood at back on ye all an' hearkened while my blood boiled. He must ha' been wrong i' his 'ead, Barjona must. Come, friends, get out o' t' gate, an' we'll carry t' furnitur' in agen, an' soon hev t' place to rights. Now you can stop that mutterin', Barjona, an' just get into t' trap out o' t' road!”

Many willing hands made the task a light one, and in an hour's time the cottage had a.s.sumed its old aspect, and the women had swept and dusted and given the finis.h.i.+ng touches to everything. Mrs. Higgins was critical, but expressed herself satisfied at last. Then she climbed into the trap and seated herself beside her husband.

”Good-bye, friends,” she shouted, as they drove off. ”Don't ye worry.

He can drive t' owd mare, but 'e can't drive me. I'll bring 'im to 'is sops!”

”Gos.h.!.+” snapped Sar'-Ann's mother, ”now that's some bit like! Gi' me a woman for mettle an' sperrit I Lord 'elp us, but I reckon nowt o' such a white-livered lot o' men as we hev i' Windyridge. She'll mak' a man o' yon old rascal yet, will Maria!”