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He walked with Billy Blee and Gaffer Lezzard; and these high priests, well pleased at their junior's attitude towards the ceremony, opened their hearts to him upon it. "'T is an ancient rite, auld as cider maybe auld as Scripture, to, for anything I've heard to the contrary," said Mr. Lezzard. "Ay, so 't is," declared Billy Blee, "an' a custom to little observed nowadays.
I'll tell you what Lezzard is just a damn evil disposition kep' in by skin an' bones that's Lezzard. 'Your pusson'!" "I'm afraid I've encouraged him a little. You've been so backward in mentioning the subject of late. But I'm sure I didn't knaw as he'd got a evil disposition." "Well, 't is so.
Then theer's the singing of the auld song: who's gwaine to say that's the least part of it?" "'T is the three pious acts thrawn together in wan gude deed," summed up Mr. Lezzard; "an' if they'd awnly let apples get ripe 'fore they break 'em, an' go back to the straw for straining, 'stead of these tom-fule, new-fangled hair-cloths, us might get tidy cider still."
He wrote to the lawyer at Newton, fixed a day for the funeral, and then turned his attention to Mr. Lezzard. The ancient resented Clement's interference not a little, but Hicks speedily convinced him that his animosity mattered nothing. The bee-keeper found this little taste of power not unpleasant.
Lezzard thawed and grew amiable over this beverage, and Mr. Chappie repeated Billy's lofty sentiments at the approach of death for the benefit of Miller Lyddon. "'T is awnly my fearless disposition," declared the wounded man with great humility; "no partic'lar credit to me. I doan't care wan iotum for the thought of churchyard mould not wan iotum.
Blanchard reminded him and added that Chris had returned in no very good humour, then trudged up to Newtake to see Phoebe. Cool and calm the widow stood before Clement's announcement, expressed her gratification, and gave him joy of the promised change in his life. "Glad enough am I to hear tell of this. But you'll act just eh? You won't forget that poor auld blid, Lezzard?
Lezzard, was more trying to the latter than all the accumulated misfortune of his sorry state Gaffer's own miseries appeared absolutely trivial by comparison with Mr. Blee's comments upon them. With another year Blanchard and Hicks became in some sort reconciled, though the former friendship was never renewed.
An', burnish it all! theer wasn't fruit enough on the tree to fill your pockets!" "Whether 't is the firing into the branches, or the cider to the roots does gude, be a matter of doubt," continued Mr. Lezzard; but the other authority would not admit this. "They 'm like the halves of a flail, depend on it: wan no use wi'out t'other.
"An' what might he have answered?" inquired Billy without, however, showing particular interest to know. "He said he wasn't bit. His wife was a proper creature." "Bah! second-hand gudes that's what Lezzard be a widow-man an' eighty if a day. A poor, coffin-ripe auld blid, wi' wan leg in the graave any time this twenty year." Mrs. Coomstock's frame heaved at this tremendous criticism.
Chris, after her conversation with Martin, doubted not but that he would make some effort, and, hearing nothing as time passed, assumed he had changed his mind; while Mrs. Hicks, who had greatly hoped that Clement's visit to the Red House might result in regular employment, felt disappointed when no such thing occurred. The union of Mr. Lezzard and Mrs.
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