The Parson O' Dumford Part 42

"Two hundred loaves!" exclaimed Mrs Slee. "Bless the man, where am I to put them?"

"Oh, we'll stack them in the hall if we can't put them anywhere else, Mrs Slee," said the vicar, laughing. "And let that soup cool. It'll be like jelly in the morning. I'm going to walk over to Bult.i.tude's, and I'll call at the butcher's about the beef."

"But that broth would bear as much watter to it, and that would make twice as much."

"Now, Mrs Slee, I won't have a good thing spoiled," said the vicar. "I don't believe you mind the trouble of making it."

"That I'm sure I don't," said Mrs Slee, sharply; "only you're giving away cartloads of bread and meat, and pailsful of soup to folks as wean't say thank you for it, and laugh at you for your pains."

"They won't laugh at me while they're eating that beautiful soup, Mrs Slee, which does you credit. If they like to laugh afterwards,--well, let them."

"Oh, I don't want no praise for the broth," said Mrs Slee, ungraciously. "You telled me how to mak' it. But I don't like to see you robbing yourself for them as is sure to be ungrateful."

"We won't mind that, Mrs Slee," said the vicar, smiling; "and now I'm going off to Bult.i.tude's, and I'll see if I can't get there this time.

By the way, Mrs Slee, I should like a little tureen of that soup for my dinner; it's splendid. And look here, Mrs Slee, if any one comes while I'm out, who needs a little, you can lend a jug, and give some of the soup before it's cold. I'll leave that to you."

Volume 2, Chapter V.

THE VICAR'S SOUP.

"He's a strange good man," said Mrs Slee, grimly, as she watched the vicar down the path; "and he must hev a vast o' money, giving away as he is raight and left. Well, I won't hev him cheated if I can help it, for the more he gives the more he may. Who's yon at the back?"

The last remark was jerked out as a soft tap was heard at the kitchen door, and on going to answer it, there stood Sim Slee.

"Well?"

"Well?"

"Didn't I tell thee as thou needn't come here?" said Mrs Slee. "I thowt you wouldn't darken parson's door again."

"What's that as smells?" said Sim, giving a sniff.

"Soup for them as you and your strike folk have left to pine to dead,"

snapped Mrs Slee.

"Is that some on it in they pancheons?" said Sim.

"Yes, it is," said his wife, sulkily.

"I heered tell on it," said Sim. "He've been a scrattin about at all the butchers', and buying up weighs of cag mag as they couldn't sell. I saw a basket o' stinking bones come up to the gate, and I heerd at the Bull as he's gotten four beasts' heads promised. Yah! it's a shame as such as him should hev a place like this, and five hundred a year."

"Thou fulsome!" exclaimed Mrs Slee, angrily. "I wean't stand by and hear parson talked about like that."

"All raight," said Sim, sneering; "he's won you ower then. But what hev you gotten to eat?"

"Nowt," said Mrs Slee, shortly.

"Here, just take thee scithers, and coot the dwiny ends off my collar,"

said Sim, holding up the ragged but scrupulously clean collar of the shirt he wore; and this duty was diligently performed by his wife.

"Some one telled me as the soup meat was covered wi' madd.i.c.k bees," said Sim, as soon as the task was done.

"Then some one telled thee a lie," said Mrs Slee, sharply.

"Power up a few of it in a basin," said Sim, after examining the broad earthen pans in which the thick soup steamed. "Let's see what sorter stuff the downtrodden serf is to be compelled to eat."

"It isn't good enough for such as thou," said Mrs Slee, sharply.

Sim took up the spoon, and with an air of disgust raised some of the soup and let it drop back, exhaling as it did so a most tantalising odour for a hungry man.

"I just come by Riggall's, the bone-setter's," said Sim; "and he says as he won't hev parson meddling wi' his trade, if doctor does. Why, he tied up Binney Mawtrop's hand as he got in the wheel."

"Yes, and I held a basin and a sponge for him," said Mrs Slee, eyeing her husband. "He owt to hev let him bleed to dead, of course."

"Say, owd la.s.s," said Sim, "is this stuff fit to yeat?"

"Fit to yeat, thou unconditioned fulsome! it ain't fit for thee. Bread and watter's what such shacks as thou ought to hev, and nowt besides."

"Thy tongue's gotten a strange and rough edge to it this morning, moother," said Sim, grinning, and longing to convey the spoon to his mouth, but feeling that it would not be consistent.

"There, sit thee down," said Mrs Slee. "I know what you mean. There, sit down, and don't get theeing and thouing me about. A deal you care for me."

This was in answer to a rough caress, as she bustled about, and got a basinful of the soup for her lord, with a great hunk of bread; and without more ado Sim took his seat.

"Oh, I'm not going to yeat this," he said. "I'm just going to taste what sorter moock he gives the pore out of his bounty."

"Howd thee tongue and eat," said Mrs Slee, contemptuously.

Sim played with the spoon, and splashed the soup about, ending by tasting it and retasting, and then taking some bread and going heartily to work.

"Say, moother," he exclaimed, "it won't do; that's the broth you've been makking for the parson hissen. It ain't to give away."

"That's made o' the meat as the parson went and scratted up from the butcher's, and the baskets o' bones and beasts' heads, and all the rubbish he could get together," said Mrs Slee sourly.

"I'll say it's good soup," said Sim, finishing his basin. "Say, moother, give's another soop."

"He said I was to give some to anybody who wanted," said Mrs Slee; and then, with a grim smile, she refilled his basin, while Sim drew out his handkerchief, spread it on his knees, and polished off the second basin in a very few minutes.

"You can't get me to believe as that soup's going to be gin away," he said as he rose. "That'll be wattered till it's thin as thin. Theer, I'm off again. I've a deal to see to;" and without another word he hurried away.

"Yes, he's gotten his fill," said Mrs Slee, directing a look of contempt after her husband; but as she crossed the kitchen she saw something white under the chair Sim had occupied, and stooping down picked up a note in a very small envelope, whose address she spelled out: "Miss Banks, By hand."

"What's he gotten to do wi' takkin letters to Daisy Banks?" she exclaimed, as a hot feeling of jealousy came upon her for the moment.

Then, with a half-laugh she said, "No, no, it ain't that: he's too old and unheppen, and she's ower young and pretty. He's takkin it for some one. Whose writing will it be? He's coming back."

She stopped short, hearing a step, and darted out of the kitchen just as Sim came softly up, peered in and looked eagerly about the floor and under the table.

"Mebbe I've dropped it somewheers else," he muttered, starting off again, while Mrs Slee had another good look at the letter, and ended by depositing it in her bosom.