The Humourous Story of Farmer Bumpkin's Lawsuit Part 51

But presently they met old Tim, the Collie, and there was no need for Joe to speak to him. Up he came with a bound and caressed his old mate in the most loving manner.

The Queen's uniform was no disguise to him.

The next day it was quite a treat to see Joe go through the village.

Such a swagger he put on that you would have thought he was the whole regiment. And when he went by the Vicarage, where Polly was housemaid, it was remarkable to see the air of indifference which he a.s.sumed. Whack went his riding-whip on his leg: you could hear it a hundred yards off.

He didn't seem to care a bit whether she was staring at him out of the study window as hard as she could stare or not. Two or three times he struck the same leg, and marched on perfectly indifferent to all around.

At length came Sunday, as Sunday only comes in a country village. No such peace, no such Sabbath anywhere. You have only got to look at anything you like to know that it is Sunday. Bill's shirt collar; the milkman; even his bright milk-can has a Sunday shine about it. The cows standing in the shallow brook have a reverent air about them. They never look like that on any other day. Why the very sunshine is Sabbath sunshine, and seems to bring more peace and more pleasantness than on any other day of the week. And all the trees seem to whisper together, "It's Sunday morning."

Presently you see the people straggling up to the little church, whose donging bell keeps on as much as to say, "I know I'm not much of a peal, but in my humble way I do my duty to the best of my ability; it's not the sound but the spirit of the thing that is required; and if I'm not very musical, and can't give you many changes, I'm sincere in what I say."

And this was an emblem of the sincerity and the simplicity of the clergyman inside. He kept on hammering away at the old truths and performing his part in G.o.d's great work to the best of his ability; and I know with very great success. So in they all came to church; and Joe, who had been a very good Sunday-school pupil (notwithstanding his love of poaching) and was a favourite with the vicar, as the reader knows, took his old place in the free seats, not very far from the pew where the vicar's servants sat. Who can tell what his feelings were as he wondered whether Polly would be there that morning?

The other servants came in. Ah, dear! Polly can't come, now look at that! Just as he was thinking this in she came. Such a flutter in her heart as she saw the bright uniform and the brighter face, bronzed with a foreign clime and looking as handsome as ever a face could look. O what a flutter too in Joe's heart! But he was determined not to care for her.

So he wouldn't look, and that was a very good way; and he certainly would have kept his word if he could.

I think if I had to choose where and how I would be admired, if ever such a luxury could come to me, I would be Joe Wurzel under present circ.u.mstances. A young hero, handsome, tall, in the uniform of the Hussars, with a loved one near and all the village girls fixing their eyes on me! That for once only, and my utmost ambition would be gratified. Life could have no greater pride for me. I don't know whether the sermon made much impression that day, but of the two, I verily believe Joe made the most; and as they streamed out of the little church all the young faces of the congregation were turned to him: and everywhere when they got outside it was, "Halloa, Joe!" "Why, Joe, my lad, what cheer?" "Dang'd if here bean't Joe!" and other exclamations of welcome and surprise. And then, how all the pinafored boys flocked round and gazed with wondering eyes at this conquering hero; chattering to one another and contradicting one another about what this part of his uniform was and what that part was, and so on; but all agreeing that Joe was about the finest sight that had come into Yokelton since ever it was a place.

And then the old clergyman sent for him and was as kind as ever he could be; and Joe was on the enchanted ground where the fairy Polly flitted about as noiselessly as a b.u.t.terfly. Ah, and what's this? Now let not the reader be over-anxious; for a few lines I must keep you, gentle one, in suspense; a great surprise must be duly prepared. If I told you at once what I saw, you would not think so much of it as if I kept you a little while in a state of wondering curiosity. What do you think happened in the Vicarage?

Now's the moment to tell it in a fresh paragraph. Why in came the fairy with a little tray of cake and wine! Now pause on that before I say any more. What about their eyes? Did they swim? What about their hearts; did they flutter? Did Polly blush? Did Joe's bronzed face shine? Ah, it all took place, and much more than I could tell in a whole volume.

The vicar did not perceive it, for luckily he was looking out of the window. It only took a moment to place the tray on the table, and the fairy disappeared. But that moment, not then considered as of so much importance, exciting as it was, stamped the whole lives of two beings, and who can tell whether or no such a moment leaves its impress on Eternity?

All good and all kind was the old vicar; and how attentively he listened with Mrs. Goodheart to the eye-witness of England's great deeds! And then-no, he did not give Joe a claptrap maudlin sermon, but treated him as a man subject to human frailties, and, only hoped in all his career he would remember some of the things he had been taught at the Sunday School.

"Ay," said Joe, "ay, sir, and the best lesson I ever larned, and what have done me most good, be the kindness I always had from you."

So they parted, and a day or two after, strangely enough, just as Joe was walking along by the old Oak that is haunted, and which the owls and the ghosts occupy between them, who should come down the lane in the opposite direction but Polly Sweetlove! Where she came from was the greatest mystery in the world! And it was so extraordinary that Joe should meet her: and he said so, as soon as he could speak.

"Now look at that! Whoever would have thought of meeting anybody here?"

Polly hung down her head and blushed. Neither of them knew what to say for a long time; for Joe was not a spokesman to any extent. At last Polly Sweetlove broke silence and murmured in the softest voice, and I should think the very sweetest ever heard in this world:

"Are you going away soon, Joe?"

"Friday," answered the young Hussar.

Ah me! This was Wednesday already; to-morrow would be Thursday, and the next day Friday! I did not hear this, but I give you my word it took place.

"Are you coming to see the Vicar again?" asked the sweet voice.

"No," said Joe.

They both looked down at the gnarled roots of the old tree-the roots did stick out a long way, and I suppose attracted their attention-and then Polly just touched the big root with her tiny toe. And the point of that tiny toe touched Joe's heart too, which seemed to have got into that root somehow, and sent a thrill as of an electric shock, only much pleasanter, right through his whole body, and even into the roots of his hair.

"When are you coming again?" whispered the sweet lips.

"Don't know," said the young soldier; "perhaps never."

"But you'll come and see-your mother?"

"O yes," answered Joe, "I shall come and see mother; but what's it matter to thee, la.s.sie?"

The la.s.sie blushed, and Joe thought it a good opportunity to take hold of her hand. I don't know why, but he did; and he was greatly surprised that the hand did not run away.

"I think the Vicar likes you, Joe?"

"Do he?" and he kept drawing nearer and nearer, little by little, until his other hand went clean round Polly Sweetlove's waist, and-well an owl flew out of the tree at that moment, and drew off my attention; but afterwards I saw that they both kept looking at the root of the tree, and then Joe said;

"But you love th' baker, Polly?"

"No," whispered Polly; "no, no, never!"

"Now, look at that!" said Joe, recovering himself a little; "I always thought you liked the baker."

"Never, Joe."

"Well then, why didn't you look at me?"

Polly blushed.

"Joe, they said you was so wild."

"Now, look at that," said Joe; "did you ever see me wild, Polly?"

"Never, Joe-I will say that."

"No, and you can ask my mother or Mrs. b.u.mpkin, or the Vicar, or anybody else you like, Polly-."

"I shall go and see your mother," said Polly.

"Will you come to-morrow night?" asked Joe.

"If I can get away I will; but I must go now-good-bye-good-bye-good--"

"Are you in a hurry, Polly."

"I must go, Joe-good-; but I will come to-morrow, as soon as dinner is over-good-good-good-bye."

"And then--," but the Old Oak kept his counsel. Here I awoke.

"Well," cried my wife, "you have broken off abruptly."

"One can't help it," quoth I, rubbing my eyes. "I cannot help waking any more than I can help going to sleep."

"Well, this would be a very pretty little courtship if true."