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Churchouse, whose first pleasure on earth was now Estelle, craved her presence during convalescence, as Raymond in like case had done; and Miss Ironsyde also drove to see him on several occasions. The event filled all with concern, for Ernest had a trick to make friends and, what is more rare, an art to keep them.
You mark me a man that can ruin one girl won't be very tender about fifty girls and women. And if you think Raymond Ironsyde will take any steps to better the workers at the expense of the master, you're wrong, and don't know nothing about human nature." John Best looked at Mr. Churchouse doubtfully. "There's sense in that, I'm fearing," he said.
"I'll stop, if he won't be vexed." Mr. Churchouse went into the garden and praised Abel's energies. "A beautiful grave; and it is right and proper that Peter Grim should lie here, because he often hunted here." "He caught the mice that live in holes at the bottom of the wall," said Abel. "If you are ready, we will now bury him.
The grass was rank, but it had been mown down for this occasion round the tombs of the Ironsydes, though elsewhere darnel rose knee deep and many venerable stones slanted out of it. Immediately south of the churchyard wall stood the Mill, and Benny Cogle, engineman at the works, who now greeted Mr. Churchouse, dwelt on the fact. "Morning, sir," he said, "a brave day for the funeral, sure enough."
Herodotus tells us of a linen corselet, presented to the Lacedemonians by King Amasis, each thread of which commanded admiration, for though very fine, each was twisted of three hundred and sixty others! And if you decline to believe this " "Oh, Mister Churchouse, we quite believe it I'm sure, sir, if you say so," interrupted Mrs. Chick.
But she was young, and hope her rightful heritage. The blessed word 'reconstruction' seemed to her as musical as a ring of bells. "There are some things you never will be able to express in political terms, and life is one of them," Ernest Churchouse had assured her; but she was not convinced of it.
There were no relations from afar to be considered, and no need for funeral baked meats in the dead man's house. When all was ended and only old William Baggs stood by the grave and watched the sextons fill it, a small company walked together up the hill north of Bridetown. Daniel went first with Mr. Churchouse, and behind them followed Miss Jenny Ironsyde with a man and a child.
With infinite commiseration Mr. Churchouse considered what this must mean to her. It was as though Mrs. Dinnett's hysterical words had come true. Indeed, the tender-hearted man felt that death was in his house death of fair hopes, death of a young and trusting spirit. "The rising generation puts a strain on Christianity that I'm sure it was never called to bear in my youth," reflected Mr.
"A great responsibility for one so young; but he will rise to it." "D'you mean his brother, or the Mill?" "Both," answered Ernest Churchouse. "Both." Mrs. Dinnett came down the garden. "The mourning coach is at the door," she said. "Daniel insisted that we went home in a mourning coach," explained Miss Ironsyde. "He felt the funeral was not ended until we returned home.
Instead of that, we waste tons of energy hating other people, and think there's nobody so fine and nice and interesting as we are ourselves." "Mister Churchouse says the less we think about ourselves the better. But you've got to if you've been ill-used." In the dusk twinkled out a glow-worm beside the hedge, and they stopped while Abel picked it up.
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