Part 14 (1/2)
BELL: Ay: we fratched, at first; For he'd a tongue of his own; and could use it, too, Better than most menfolk--a bonnie sparrer, I warrant, in his time; but past his best Before I kenned him; little fight left in him: And when his wits went cranky, he just havered-- Ground out his two tunes like a hurdygurdy, With most notes missing and a creaky handle.
JUDITH: And Michael?
BELL: Michael! The lad will sit mumchance The evening through: he's got a powerful gift Of saying nothing: no sparks to strike off him; Though he's had to serve as a whetstone, this long while, To keep an edge on my tongue.
JUDITH: He's quiet?
BELL: Quiet!
A husband born. No need to fear for Ruth: She's safe with Michael, safe for life.
JUDITH: He's steady?
BELL: He's not his mother's son: he banks his money; And takes no hazards; never risks his s.h.i.+rt: As canny as I'm spendthrift, he's the sort Can pouch his cutty, half-smoked, ten minutes after I've puffed away my pipeful. Ay: Ruth's safe.
His peatstacks never fire: he'll never lose A lamb, or let a ewe slip through his hands, For want of watching; though he go for nights Without a nap. The day of Ezra's funeral, A score of gimmers perished in the snow, But not a ewe of Michael's: his were folded Before the wind began to pile the drifts: He takes no risks.
JUDITH: Ruth needs a careful man: For she's the sort that's steady with the steady, And a featherhead with featherheads. She's sense: And Michael ...
BELL: Michael's sense itself--a cob Too steady to shy even at the crack of doom: He'll keep the beaten track, the road that leads To four walls, and the same bed every night.
Talk of the devil--but he's coming now Up b.l.o.o.d.ysyke: ay, and there's someone with him-- A petticoat, no less!
JUDITH: Mercy! It's Ruth: Yet I didn't leave, till she was safely off To work ...
BELL: Work? Michael, too, had business In Bellingham this morning, oddly enough.
Doubtless, they helped each other; and got through The job the quicker, working well together: And a parson took a hand in it for certain, If I ken Michael: likes things proper, he does; And always had a weakness for black lambs.
But, who'd have guessed he'd ... Surely, there's a strain Of Haggard in the young limb, after all: No Haggard stops to ask a parent's leave, Even should they happen to ken the old folk by sight: My own I knew by hearsay. But, what luck You're here to welcome the young pair.
JUDITH: No! They'll wonder ...
I bring no luck to weddings ... I must go ...
BELL: You can't, without being spotted: but you can hide Behind the door, till I speak with them.
JUDITH: No! No!
Not that door ... I can't hide behind that door Again.
BELL: That door? Well, you ken best what's been Between that door and you. It's crazy and old, But, it looks innocent, wooden-faced humbug: yet I don't trust doors myself; they've got a knack Of shutting me in. But you'll be snug enough In the other room: I'd advise you to lie down, And rest; you're looking trashed: and, come to think, I've a deal to say to the bridegroom, before I go.
JUDITH: Go?
BELL: Quick, this way: step lively, or they'll catch Your skirt-tail whisking round the doorcheek.
(_BELL hustles JUDITH into the inner room; closing the door behind her.
She then thrusts the orange-coloured kerchief into her pocket; picks up the bracken, and flings it on the fire; seats herself on the settle, with her back to the door; and gazes at the blaze: not even glancing up, as MICHAEL and RUTH enter._)
MICHAEL: Mother!
BELL: Is that you, Prodigal son? You're late, to-day, As always when you've business in Bellingham.
That's through, I trust: those ewes have taken a deal Of seeing to: and I'm lonely as a milestone, When you're away.
MICHAEL: I've taken the last trip, mother: That job's through: and I've made the best of bargains.
You'll not be lonely, now, when I'm not here: I've brought you a daughter to keep you company.
BELL (_turning sharply_): I might have known you were no Prodigal son: He didn't bring home even a single sausage, For all his keeping company with swine.