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Updated: June 20, 2025
Purcessin an' vestiments" here Twitt spread out a broad dirty thumb and dumped it down with each word into the palm of his other hand "candles, crosses, bobbins an' bowins them's what we calls 'Igh Jinks, an' I make so bold as to say that if ye gets 'em up 'ere, Mr. Arbroath, ye'll be mighty sorry for yourself!" "I shall conduct the services as I please!" said Arbroath.
"That's what I said at the time, an' that's what I've allus thought!" declared Twitt "Why that little 'Kiddie' child o' Tom's was the playfullest, prettiest little rogue ye'd see in a hundred mile or more! 'Oldin' out a posy o' flowers to a motor-car, poor little innercent!
Twitt began to laugh, "wheer ye can't 'ave a moniment put up to your dead folk without 'subjectin'' the design to the Town Council an' we all knows the fine taste o' Town Councils! They'se 'artists, an' no mistake! I've got the rules of the cemetery of that town for my own eddification. They runs like this " And drawing a paper from his pocket, he read as follows:
Some folks die as is bound to be missed, an' some folks lives on as one 'ud be glad to see in their long 'ome peaceful at rest, forbye their bein' born so grumblesome like. Twitt 'ud be at 'is best composin' a hepitaph for Mr. Arbroath now!" As she said this the corners of her mouth, which usually drooped in somewhat lachrymose lines, went up in a whimsical smile.
Twitt, on neighbourly thoughts intent, came up to the cottage, eager to hear all the news concerning "old David" but she found the kitchen deserted; and peeping into the bedroom adjoining, saw Mary lying there fast asleep, with Charlie curled up beside her. "She's just dead beat and tired out for sure!" and Mrs. Twitt stole softly away again on tip-toe. "'Twould be real cruel to wake her.
He was the great "gossip" of the place; no old woman at a wash-tub or behind a tea-tray ever wagged her tongue more persistently over the concerns of he and she and you and they, than Abel Twitt.
Helmsley started slightly. "Arbroath? I've seen that man." 'Ave ye? Well, ye 'aven't seen no beauty!" And Twitt gave vent to a chuckling laugh "'E'll be startin' 'is 'Igh Jink purcessions an' vestiments in our plain little church up yonder, an' by the Lord, 'e'll 'ave to purcess an' vestiment by 'isself, for Weircombe wont 'elp 'im. We aint none of us 'Igh Jink folks."
He laughed again, and they all talked awhile longer on this unexpected event, which, to such a village as Weircombe, was one of startling importance and excitement, and then, as the afternoon was drawing in and Mary did not reappear, Angus Reay took his departure with Twitt, leaving Helmsley sitting alone in his chair by the fire.
'If the world hate you, ye know that it hated Me before it hated you. Now if that aint enuff to send us on our way rejoicin', I don't know what is! For Lord knows if the dear Christ was hated, we can put up wi' a bit o' the hate for ourselves!" There was a pause. "So Mr. Reay reads very well, does he?" asked Mary. "Fine!" said Mrs. Twitt, "'E's a lovely man with a lovely voice!
Twitt! an' 'e walks off laughin', an' Twitt 'e laughs too an' sez, 'Good luck to the bridegroom an' the bride, which I aint denyin', but there was still the thought o' the potato peel an' the clinker, an' it's come clear to-day now I've 'eerd as 'ow poor old David's gone!" She paused to take breath, and shook her head solemnly. "It's my opinion 'e'll never come back no more!"
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