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Updated: June 2, 2025
"Ha-ha-ha!" laughed the Reverend John again, throwing back his head with a real enjoyment in his capability for laughter; "You did quite right to disturb me, Bainton, quite right! Where are Sir Morton and his party? What are they doing?"
"Nor she ain't what I bet she would be," said Bainton, heedless as to whether his companion heard him or not; "I've lost 'arf a crown to my old 'ooman, for I sez, sez I, 'She's bound to be a 'igh an' mighty stuck-up sort o' miss wot won't never 'ave a wurrd for the likes of we, an' my old 'ooman she sez to me: 'Go 'long with ye for a great silly gawk as ye are; I'll bet ye 'arf a crown she won't be! So I sez 'Done, an' done it is.
A sentiment is no part of a political propinquity." With that, he retired into the recesses of his 'general store, leaving Bainton chuckling to himself, with a broad grin on his weatherbeaten countenance. The 'Petol' board displayed on the front of Mr.
Bainton still lingered near the porch, moved by a pardonable curiosity. He was anxious to see the first glimpse of the people who were staying at the Manor, but as yet there was no sign of any one of them, though the time wanted only five minutes to eleven.
"Easy enough, sir, 'The Scripter moveth us in sun'ry places'! Hor! hor!-hor! "and Bainton burst into a hoarse chuckle of mirth, entirely delighted with his own witticism, and walked off, not waiting to see whether its effect on his master was one of offence or appreciation.
Rest were disposed to concede that it was just possible they might have what they called 'a spell of fair weather. Saturday was the general 'cleaning-up day' in the village the day when pails of water were set out in unexpected places for the unwary to trip over; when the old flagstones poured with soapsuds that trickled over the toes of too- hasty passers-by; when cottage windows were violently squirted at with the aid of garden-syringes and hose, and when Adam Frost, the sexton, was always to be found meditating, and even surreptitiously drinking beer, in a quiet corner of the churchyard, because he was afraid to go home, owing to the persistent housewifely energy of his better half, who 'washed down' everything, 'cleaned out' everything, and had, as she forcibly expressed it, 'the Sunday meals on her mind. It was a day, too, when Bainton, released from his gardening duties at the rectory at noon, took a thoughtful stroll by himself, aware that his 'Missis' was scrubbing the kitchen, and 'wouldn't have him muckin' about, and when John Walden, having finished his notes for the Sunday's sermon, felt a sense of ease and relief, and considered himself at liberty to study purely Pagan literature, such as The Cratylus of Plato.
"This is Tuesday, isn't it?" he asked abruptly; "This is the day Miss Vancourt has arranged to return?" "It is so, sir," replied Bainton; "and it's believed the arrangements 'olds good for change'er mind as a woman will, 'er 'osses an' groom's arrived and a dog as large as they make 'em, which 'is name is Plato." Walden gave a slight gesture of annoyance.
"She's been in to see Adam Frost's children an' she gave Baby Hippolyta a bag o' sweeties," said Bainton. "An' she's called at the schoolhouse, but Miss Eden, she worn't in an' Susie Prescott saw her, an' Susie was that struck that she 'adn't a wurrd to say, so she tells us, an' Miss Vancourt she went to old Josey Letherbarrow's straight away an' there she stayed iver so long.
This pole projected about two feet on either side of the chair to accommodate the bearers, namely Spruce and Bainton, who, having set their burden down, were now wiping their hot faces and perspiring brows with flagrantly coloured handkerchiefs of an extra large size.
The faithful Nebbie, who had passed all the hours of his master's absence, 'on guard' by the window of the vacant study, came running to meet him as he set foot upon the lawn, three or four doves that were brooding on the old tiled and gabled roof of the rectory, rose aloft in a short flight and descended again, cooing softly as though with satisfaction at his return, and there was a soothing silence everywhere, the work of the day being done, and Bainton having left the garden trim and fair to its own sweet solitude and calm.
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