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Updated: May 21, 2025
"They'll deave yo, down i' th' town, wi their noise. Yo'd think they were warked to deaeth. Bit, yo can see for yorsen. Why, a farmin mon mut be allus agate: in t' mornin, what wi' cawves to serve, an t' coos to feed, an t' horses to fodder, yo're fair run aff your legs. Bit down i' Whinthorpe or Froswick ayder, fer it's noa odds why, theer's nowt stirrin for a yoong mon.
Them as ladles their wits oot o' other foak's brains gits nobbut middlin sarved." "You don't seem to miss Mr. Hubert very much?" said Laura, with a laughing look. Daffady scratched his head. "Noa they say he's doin wonnerfu well, deaen i' Froswick, an I'm juist glad on 't; for he wasna yan for work." "Why, Daffady, they say now he's killing himself with work!" Daffady grinned a cautious grin.
All that Helbeck knew of them since the Froswick day might have been summed up in a few sentences. On the Sunday morning Mason, in a wild state, with wet clothes and bloodshot eyes, had presented himself at the Wilsons' cottage, asking for news of Miss Fountain. They told him that she was safely at home, and he departed.
She lifted a little fan that hung at her girdle. "Is there any shade in Froswick?" she said, looking round her. Mason was silenced, and as Polly and Mr. Seaton joined them, he recovered his temper with a mighty effort and once more set himself to do the honours the slighted honours of his new home. ... But oh! the heat of the ship-building yard.
Nevertheless pretty, Miss Fountain might be; elegant she certainly was; but Polly did not find her the best of companions for a festal day. They were going to Froswick the big town on the coast to meet Hubert and another young man, one Mr. Seaton, foreman in a large engineering concern, whose name Polly had not been able to mention without bridling, for some time past.
"Plenty," he said, drawing a letter out of his pocket. "Your writ, my dear lady, runs as easily in the City as elsewhere." And he held up an envelope. She flushed. "You have got your allotment? But I knew you would. Lady Froswick promised." "And a large allotment, too," he said, joyously. "I am the envy of all my friends. Some of them have got a few shares, and have already sold them grumbling.
She was occupied in looking at the new buildings and streets, the brand new squares and statues of Froswick. "How can people build and live in such ugly places?" she said at last, standing still that she might stare about her "when there are such lovely things in the world; Cambridge, for instance or Bannisdale." The last word slipped out, dreamily, unaware. The lad's face flushed furiously.
She was smarting under his words ready to concentrate a double passion of resentment upon them, as soon as she should be alone and free to recall them. And yet "As to the future," she said coldly. "That is simple enough as far as one person is concerned. Hubert Mason is going to Froswick immediately, into business." "I am glad to hear it it will be very much for his good."
Helbeck's sudden proposal of marriage to Miss Fountain had been brought about by his chivalrous wish to protect the endangered name of a young girl, his guest, to whom he had become unwisely attached. But why should there be "stories," and what did it all mean? That unlucky Froswick business and young Mason? But what had Mason to do with it on that occasion?
There was a friend, a musical friend, a rescuer, who had appeared, in the shape of a young organist who had come to lead the Froswick Philharmonic Society. Hubert was living with him now; and the young man, of whom all Froswick thought a wonderful deal, was looking after him, and making him write his songs. Some of them were to be sung at a festival Laura clapped her hands.
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