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"The man's in your house, Mr. Fleming," he said. "And he's my guest, and my daughter's husband, remember that," said the farmer. "And mean to wait not half a minute longer till I've taken her off mark that," Sedgett struck in. "Now, Mr. Fleming, you see you keep good your word to me." "I'll do no less," said the farmer. He went into the passage shouting for Mrs. Sumfit to bring down the box.
"Take her upstairs," said the farmer to Rhoda, and Rhoda went by her and took her hands, and by dint of pushing from behind and dragging in front, Mrs. Sumfit, as near on a shriek as one so fat and sleek could be, was ejected. The farmer and Robert heard her struggles and exclamations along the passage, but her resistance subsided very suddenly.
"Tony at a funeral! and train expenses!" the farmer interjected. "D'ye think, mother, Tony'd come to Wrexby churchyard 'fore he come Queen Anne's Farm? And where's he now, mayhap?" Mrs. Sumfit appealed in despair to Master Gammon, with entreaties, and a ready dumpling.
"Tony at a funeral! and train expenses!" the farmer interjected. "D'ye think, mother, Tony'd come to Wrexby churchyard 'fore he come Queen Anne's Farm? And where's he now, mayhap?" Mrs. Sumfit appealed in despair to Master Gammon, with entreaties, and a ready dumpling.
Naturally enough, Master Gammon allowed the interjection to pass, regarding it as simply a vagrant action of the engine of speech; while Mrs. Sumfit, with an interjector's consciousness of prodigious things implied which were not in any degree comprehended, left his presence in kindness, and with a shade less of the sense that he was a superior Christian.
"Four, marm," said her inveterate antagonist, as he finished that amount, and consequently put the spoon in his cup. Mrs. Sumfit rolled in her chair. "O Lord, Mas' Gammon! Five, I say; and never a cup less so long as here you've been." "Four, marm. I don't know," said Master Gammon, with a slow nod of his head, "that ever I took five cups of tea at a stretch. Not runnin'."
Sumfit's assistance. Her father's manner forbade Rhoda from making any proposal for the relief of the forlorn old woman. "And me not to hear to-night about your play-going!" sighed Mrs. Sumfit. "Oh, it's hard on me. I do call it cruel. And how my sweet was dressed like as for a Ball." She saw the farmer move his foot impatiently. "Then, if nobody drinks this remaining cup, I will," she pursued.
His prospect in the vague wilderness of the future, was to seek for acceptance as a common labourer on some kind gentleman's property. The phrase "kind gentleman" was adopted by his deliberate irony of the fate which cast him out. Robert was stamping fretfully for Rhoda to come. At times, Mrs. Sumfit showed her head from the window of her bed-room, crying, "D'rectly!" and disappearing.
Sumfit performed a methodical "Ahem!" and noised the sole of her shoe on the gravel "so, and folks 'll think it's a mistake they made." "What's that?" the farmer pointed at a projection under Rhoda's shawl. "It is a present, father, for my sister," said Rhoda. "What is it?" the farmer questioned again. Mrs. Sumfit fawned before him penitently "Ah!
Robert marked him, and the blush as well. It was Algernon, upon a livery-stable hack. His countenance expressed a mighty disappointment. The farmer saw no one. The ingratitude and treachery of Robert, and of Mrs. Sumfit and Master Gammon, kept him brooding in sombre disgust of life. He remarked that the cart jolted a good deal.
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