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Updated: June 4, 2025
At the sight of the ladies, or at a sudden movement forward of Mr Tankardew, the animal swerved and almost unseated his tormentor, who, however, recovered himself, but in doing so lost his hat, as the poor beast again plunged forward with his almost unconscious burden.
"Only my son's nonsense, you must pardon him," said Mr Rothwell; "we always have a young people's party that night, of course you would be heartily welcome, only " "A juvenile party?" asked Mr Tankardew again, very slowly.
Mr Tankardew employed no agent, but collected his own rents; which he required to be paid to himself half-yearly, in the beginning of January and July, at his own residence.
Mary felt and looked half-confused, half-frightened, but the next moment Mr Tankardew turned away, muttered something to himself, and then entered into the subject of requested alterations.
With many thanks, but still with considerable reluctance, Mrs Franklin acquiesced in this arrangement. Their hostess then accommodated them with such garments as they needed, and all assembled round the blazing fire. Mr Tankardew had divested himself of a rough top coat, and, looking like the gentleman he was, begged Mrs Hodges to give them some tea. What a tea that was!
His greeting of the host and hostess, though a little old- fashioned, was thoroughly easy and courteous, after which he begged them to leave him to himself, and to give their undivided attention to the young, whose special evening it was. Curiosity once gratified, the suspended buzz of eager talk broke out again, and allowed Mr Tankardew to make his way to Mrs Franklin and her daughter.
While this dialogue was going on, the rest of the party was too full of noisy mirth to notice what was passing. Mark's voice was getting very wild and conspicuous; and now he made his way with flushed face and sparkling eyes to Mary, who was sitting quietly between her mother and Mr Tankardew.
"What in the world did your father mean by asking old Mr Tankardew to the party to-night?" she exclaims, turning to her elder daughters. "Mean! Mamma you may well ask that: the old scarecrow! They say he looks like a bag of dust and rags." "Mark says," cries her sister, "that he's just the image of a stuffed Guy Fawkes, which the boys used to carry about London on a chair."
He's had his heart broke once, but it seems to me as he's been getting it mended again." For the next half hour, the farmer, his wife, and daughter were busy about their home concerns, and their two guests were left to their own meditations. At last a distant door opened, and Mr Tankardew appeared followed by the young stranger.
"Marvellous, marvellous! Bravo!" cried both Mr Rothwell and Mark at the conclusion. "My young friend," said Mr Tankardew, "will be glad to give lessons in music, as an occupation. He will be making my house his home at present."
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