Black, White and Gray Part 9

"Pretty tol'rable, master," answered Tuvvy, his long lean fingers moving nimbly amongst the pieces of wood.

"Shall you finish it in a week?" was Dennis's next question.

Tuvvy's dark eyes flashed round at him for a second, but he only answered, "Pretty nigh."

Dennis was silent for a little while. Then he gathered his courage for a great effort, for he felt that it was of no use to beat about the bush any longer.

"Mr Tuvvy," he said, "I'm so sorry you're going away."

"Thank ye, master," said Tuvvy; "so be I."

"Why do you?" asked Dennis.

"'Cause the gaffer sacked me," answered Tuvvy.

"But," said Dennis, his courage rising, now that he had got into the thick of it, "he wouldn't want you to go if he could help it. You're a clever workman, aren't you?"

"Folks say so," answered Tuvvy modestly.

"Well," said Dennis, "I mean to ask him to let you stop. Only you must promise me first not to have any more bouts."

Tuvvy was so taken by surprise, that he stopped working and turned his whole face round upon Dennis, who sat, an upright little figure, on the chopping-block, with a flushed and eager face.

"Thank ye kindly, master," he said, after a moment's survey; "you mean well, but 'tain't no use."

"Why not?" asked Dennis, in a resolute voice.

"I couldn't keep that there promise," said Tuvvy, "not if I was to make it. There's times when I can't get past the Cross Keys; I'm drawed into it."

"Why do you pa.s.s it, then?" asked Dennis.

"I don't pa.s.s it, master, worse luck. I go in."

"But I mean," said Dennis, getting still redder in the face with the effort to explain himself, "why do you go by the Cross Keys at all?"

"Well, I have to," said Tuvvy, "twice in the day. Once of a morning and once of a evening. I live at Upwell, you see, master."

Dennis had never known or cared where Tuvvy lived, and indeed it hardly seemed natural to think of him in any other place than at work in the barn. It was odd to think he had a home in Upwell.

"Then," he said thoughtfully, "you have to walk more than two miles each way."

"All that," said Tuvvy--"more like three."

He bent over his work, and Dennis sat silent and rather despondent, with his eyes fixed on the ground. There was so little chance for Tuvvy, if he really could not pa.s.s the Cross Keys without being "drawed in."

There seemed nothing more to say. Presently, however, Tuvvy himself continued the conversation.

"Night's the worst," he said, "and winter worse nor any. It's mortal cold working here all day, and a man's spirit's pretty nigh freezed out of him by the time work's done. And then there's the tramp home, and long before I get to the village, I see the light behind the red blind at the Cross Keys. It streams out into the road, and it says: 'Tuvvy,'

it says, 'it's warm in here, and you're cold. There's light in here, and a bit of talk, and a newspaper; and outside it's all dark and lonesome, and a good long stretch to Upwell. Come in, and have a drop to cheer you up. You don't need to stop more'n five minutes.' And then--"

Tuvvy stopped, raised his black eyebrows, and shook his head.

"Well?" said Dennis.

"Well, master," repeated Tuvvy, "then I go in."

"And do you come out in five minutes?" asked Dennis.

Tuvvy shook his head again: "It's the red blind as draws me in," he said, "and once I'm in, I stay there."

"Mr Tuvvy," said Dennis, after a pause, with renewed hope in his voice, "I've thought of something. Why don't you go home across the fields?

You wouldn't have to pa.s.s the Cross Keys then, you see, and wouldn't see the red blind, and it couldn't draw you in."

"There ain't no way out into the road," objected Tuvvy.

"There _is_," said Dennis; "I've often been. You'd have to cross over part of one of Aunt Katharine's fields, and then there's a stile into the Upwell road. It's as straight as anything."

"Happen Miss Chester mightn't like to see me tramping over her field,"

said Tuvvy.

"She won't mind a bit. Besides, I'll ask her to let you. So that's all right," said Dennis jumping up, "and I shall go and speak to Mr Solace at once."

He was nearly out of the barn when Tuvvy's voice checked him.

"Hold hard, master," it said; "I ain't given that there promise you was talking on."

"But you will," said Dennis, coming close up to the carpenter's bench, and looking earnestly up into Tuvvy's dark face; "of course you will-- won't you?"

Tuvvy made no answer for a moment. He seemed puzzled to account for all this interest on Dennis's part, but at length he held out a hand almost black from hard work, and said:

"Well master, here's my hand on it. I'll do my best."

Dennis put his own into it seriously.

"That's a bargain, Mr Tuvvy," he said. "People always shake hands on bargains. And now it will be all right."

Tuvvy raised his eyebrows doubtfully.

"Whether it is or whether 'tain't," he said, "you meant it kind, and I take it kind, master."

Dennis himself had no doubts at all as he ran across the rick-yard to the farmhouse. Mr Solace was so good-natured, he was always ready to do what he was asked, and Dennis knew quite well that he and Maisie were favourites. He felt still more anxious now that Tuvvy should not be sent away, for since this talk with him, he seemed to have taken his affairs under his protection. Tuvvy seemed to belong to him, and to depend on him for help and advice, and Dennis was determined to do his very best for him. So it was with a feeling of great importance that he entered the housekeeper's room, where he was told that he should find Mrs Solace and his sister. They were both there, and both very busy, for Mrs Solace was making meat-pies, and Maisie, covered from head to foot with a big white ap.r.o.n, was learning how to roll out paste.

"Did you want to see Andrew _particularly_, my dear?" asked Mrs Solace.

"Fact is, he's in the office, over his accounts, and don't want to be disturbed. If it's a message from Miss Chester, you could leave it with me, couldn't you? and I'll be sure he has it."

"It isn't a message from Aunt Katharine," said Dennis. "It's something I _must_ say myself; something very important, indeed. Maisie knows it is," he added, as Mrs Solace still hesitated.

She looked at the children with some perplexity in her good-humoured face. She did not want to disturb Andrew just now, whose temper was seldom ruffled except when he was at his accounts. On the other hand, Dennis and Maisie were both fixing such imploring eyes upon her that she could not bear to say "No."

"Well, then," she said, "you must just go and knock at the door and ask if you may go in. But _don't_ ye stay long, my dear, else Andrew'll be vexed, and it's I who'll bear the blame."