The Manxman Part 7

Meanwhile an encounter of another sort was going on at the ingle. Kate had re-appeared with a table fork which she used at intervals to test the boiling of the potatoes. At each approach to the fire she pa.s.sed close to where Pete sat, never looking at Phil above the level of his boots. And as often as she bent over the pot, Pete put his arm round her waist, being so near and so tempting. For thus pestering her she beat her foot like a goat, and screwed on a look of anger which broke down in a stifled laugh; but she always took care to come again to Pete's side rather than to Phil's, until at last the nudging and shoving ended in a pinch and a little squeal, and a quick cry of "What's that?" from Caesar.

Kate vanished like a flash, the dim room began to frown again, and Phil to draw his breath heavily, when the girl came back as suddenly bringing an apple and a length of string. Mounting a chair, she fixed one end of the string to the lath of the ceiling by the peck, the parchment oatcake pan, and the other end she tied to the stalk of the apple.

"What's the jeel now?" said Pete.

"Fancy! Don't you know? Not heard f'Hop-tu-naa'? It's Hollantide Eve, man," said Kate.

Then setting the string going like a pendulum, she stood back a pace with hands clasped behind her, and snapped at the apple as it swung, sometimes catching it, sometimes missing it, sometimes marking it, sometimes biting it, her body bending and rising with its waggle, and nod, and bob, her mouth opening and closing, her white teeth gleaming, and her whole face bubbling over with delight. At every touch the speed increased, and the laughter grew louder as the apple went faster.

Everybody, except the miller, joined in the fun. Phil cried out on the girl to look to her teeth, but Pete egged her on to test the strength of them.

"Snap at it, Kitty!" cried Pete. "Aw, lost! Lost again! Ow! One in the cheek! No matter! Done!"

And Black Tom and Mr. Jelly stood up to watch through the doorway.

"My goodness grayshers!" cried one. "What a mouthful!" said the other.

"Share it, Kitty, woman; aw, share and share alike, you know."

But then came the thunderous tones of Caesar. "Drop it, drop it! Such practices is nothing but Popery."

"Popery!" cried Black Tom from over the counter. "Chut! nonsense, man!

The like of it was going before St. Patrick was born."

Kate was puffing and panting and taking down the pendulum.

"What does it mean then, Tom?" she said; "it's you for knowing things."

"Mane? It manes fairies!"

"Fairies!"

Black Tom sat down with a complacent air, and his rasping voice came from the other side of the gla.s.s. "In the ould times gone by, girl, before Manxmen got too big for their breeches, they'd be off to bed by ten o'clock on Hollantide Eve to lave room for the little people that's outside to come in. And the big woman of the house would be filling the crocks for the fairies to drink, and the big man himself would be raking the ashes so they might bake their cakes, and a girl, same as you, would be going to bed backwards----"

"I know! I know!" cried Kate, near to the ceiling, and clapping her hands. "She eats a roasted apple, and goes to bed thirsty, and then dreams that somebody brings her a drink of water, and that's the one that's to be her husband, eh?"

"You've got it, girl."

Caesar had been listening with his eyes turned sideways off his book, and now he cried, "Then drop it, I'm telling you. It's nothing but instruments of Satan, and the ones that's telling it are just flying in the face of faith from superst.i.tion and contrariety. It isn't dacent in a Christian public-house, and I'm for having no more of it."

Grannie paused in her knitting, fixed her cap with one of her needles and said, "Dear heart, father! Tom meant no harm." Then, glancing at the clock and rising, "But it's time to shut up the house, anyway. Good night, Tom! Good night all! Good night!"

Phil and Pete rose also. Pete went to the door and pretended to look out, then came back to Kate's side and whispered, "Come, give them the slip--there's somebody outside that's waiting for you."

"Let them wait," said the girl, but she laughed, and Pete knew she would come. Then he turned to Philip, "A word in your ear, Phil," he said, and took him by the arm and drew him out of the house and round to the yard of the stable.

"Well, good night, Grannie," said Mr. Jelly, going out behind them.

"But if I were as young as your grandson there, Mr. Quilliam, I would be making a start for somewhere."

"Grandson!" grunted Tom, heaving up, "I've got no grandson, or he wouldn't be laving me to smoke a dry pipe. But he's making an Almighty of this Phil Christian--that's it."

After they were gone, Grannie began counting the till and saying, "As for fairies--one, two, three--it may be, as Caesar says--four--five--the like isn't in, but it's safer to be civil to them anyway."

"Aw, yes," said Nancy Joe, "a crock of fresh water and a few good words going to bed on Hollantide Eve does no harm at all, at all."

Outside in the stable-yard the feet of Black Tom and Jonaique Jelly were heard going off on the road. The late moon was hanging low, red as an evening sun, over the hill to the south-east. Pete was puffing and blowing as if he had been running a race. "Quick, boy, quick!" he was whispering, "Kate's coming. A word in your ear first. Will you do me a turn, Phil?"

"What is it?" said Philip.

"Spake to the ould man for me while I spake to the girl!"

"What about?" said Philip.

But Pete could hear, nothing except his own voice. "The ould angel herself, she's all right, but the ould man's hard. Spake for me, Phil; you've got the fine English tongue at you."

"But what about?" Philip said again.

"Say I may be a bit of a rip, but I'm not such a bad sort anyway. Make me out a taste, Phil, and praise me up. Say I'll be as good as goold; yes, will I though. Tell him he has only to say yes, and I'll be that studdy and willing and hardworking and persevering you never seen."

"But, Pete, Pete, Pete, whatever am I to say all this about?"

Pete's puffing and panting ceased. "What about? Why, about the girl for sure."

"The girl!" said Philip.

"What else?" said Pete.

"Kate? Am I to speak for you to the father for Kate?"

Philip's voice seemed to come up from the bottom depths of his throat.

"Are you thinking hard of the job, Phil?"

There was a moment's silence. The blood had rushed to Philip's face, which was full of strange matter, but the darkness concealed it.

"I didn't say that," he faltered.

Pete mistook Philip's hesitation for a silent commentary on his own unworthiness. "I know I'm only a sort of a waistrel," he said, "but, Phil, the way I'm loving that girl it's shocking. I can never take rest for thinking of her. No, I'm not sleeping at night nor working reg'lar in the day neither. Everything is telling of her, and everything is shouting her name. It's 'Kate' in the sea, and 'Kate' in the river, and the trees and the gorse. 'Kate,' 'Kate,' 'Kate,' it's Kate constant, and I can't stand much more of it. I'm loving the girl scandalous, that's the truth, Phil."

Pete paused, but Philip gave no sign.

"It's hard to praise me, that's sarten sure," said Pete, "but I've known her since she was a little small thing in pinafores, and I was a slip of a big boy, and went into trousers, and we played Blondin in the glen together."

Still Philip did not speak. He was gripping the stable-wall with his trembling fingers, and struggling for composure. Pete sc.r.a.ped the paving-stones at his feet, and mumbled again in a voice that was near to breaking. "Spake for me, Phil. It's you to do it. You've the way of saying things, and making them out to look something. It would be clane ruined in a jiffy if I did it for myself. Spake for me, boy, now won't you, now?"

Still Philip was silent. He was doing his best to swallow a lump in his throat. His heart had begun to know itself. In the light of Pete's confession he had read his own secret. To give the girl up was one thing; it was another to plead for her for Pete. But Pete's trouble touched him. The lump at his throat went down, and the fingers on the wall slacked away. "I'll do it," he said, only his voice was like a sob.

Then he tried to go off hastily that he might hide the emotion that came over him like a flood that had broken its dam. But Pete gripped him by the shoulder, and peered into his face in the dark. "You will, though,"

said Pete, with a little shout of joy; "then it's as good as done; G.o.d bless you, old fellow."

Philip began to roll about. "Tut, it's nothing," he said, with a stout heart, and then he laughed a laugh with a cry in it. He could have said no more without breaking down; but just then a flash of light fell on them from the house, and a hushed voice cried, "Pete!"