The Greatest Works of J. S. Fletcher (64+ Titles in One Illustrated Edition). J. S. Fletcher

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      When Perris lay down to sleep behind the wheat-stack he was unaware that Pippany Webster was watching him from the vantage-point of a convenient hole in the adjacent hedge. The man-of-all-work had been spending a leisurely day in hoeing turnips, and, secure in the knowledge that his master was at the Dancing Bear, and likely to remain there, he had varied his peregrinations up and down the rows of fresh green plants by long rests in the welcome shade of the hawthorns. It was during one of these vacations that he saw Perris lurching across the next field. Pippany saw at once that the farmer was drunk, and, drawing back into the hedgerow, he followed his crab-like movements with interest. He watched Perris gain the wheatstack and disappear behind it; seeing that he made no reappearance, Pippany decided to approach with caution, and to ascertain for himself what had happened. The wheatstack stood in the angle of the field; it was an easy matter to creep along the hedge and to see what was going on in the angle which Perris had sought as a refuge from Rhoda. In a few moments the man was gazing at the master, who by that time was oblivious of everything.

      "Drucken!" Pippany muttered, as he peered through the undergrowth of the hedge. "Reight drucken! He's come theer to sleep t' drink off. I wonder what our missis 'ud say if shoo set ees on him?—shoo'd be for takin' t' skin offen his back. It 'ud be a rare fine thing if I went and telled her 'at he wor liggin' theer!—I could like to see her beltin' him."

      Pippany was so taken with the notion of beholding Rhoda thrash her drunken husband that he was minded to set off in the direction of the farmstead there and then, and to fetch her to the scene of Perris's slumbers. But just as he was about to turn away his small eyes caught sight of a shining object which lay on the ground at the unconscious man's side. The shaft of sunlight which streamed down between the wheatstack and the hedgerow fell full upon it, and Pippany noticed that it was glinting upon a golden sovereign.

      Visions of great possibilities stole across Pippany's mental field at the sight of that piece of gold. He rose from his hands and knees, trembling in every limb, and looked fearfully and cautiously about him. There was not a soul in sight anywhere; the ground on which the wheatstack stood lay in something of a dip in the land, and it was impossible to see it from the farmstead. Close by there was a convenient gap in the hedge; Pippany presently crept through it, and cautiously approached the recumbent figure. A slight inspection convinced him that Perris was not to be aroused by anything short of violence, and he picked up the sovereign and bestowed it in his own pocket. Then it struck him that where the sovereign had been other sovereigns might be, and he presently summoned up courage to insert his hand into his master's pocket and to draw forth what he found there. And, stealing quietly round to the other side of the wheatstack, Pippany counted his gains. There were three sovereigns and a half sovereign, and some small silver; the silver Pippany put in his breeches, the gold he placed in his metal tobacco-box, snugly stuffed in amongst the tobacco.

      "I mud just as weel hev' it as let him hev' it," he said to himself. "He's niver paid me fair, and this here 'll do to mak' up. Gow, but Mistress Perris, shoo would be mad an' all if shoo knew I'd takken his brass away thro' him!"

      This reflection so cheered Pippany that he crept back through the gap in the hedge, picked up his hoe, and worked steadily at the turnips until it was time to discontinue his labours for the day. At a quarter to six he shouldered his hoe and made off to the farmstead. His supper was due to be served at a quarter past six, but he was indifferent as to whether it was ready or not; he was already promising himself a supper of his own, later on, when he returned to his cottage in the village.

      Rhoda was in a temper when Pippany walked into the house-place. She had expected Perris to return home by four o'clock at the latest, he would even then have had quite two hours for his conviviality and recreation. When five o'clock arrived and there were no signs of him she began to exhibit symptoms of anger, and her temper was not improved by the remarks of Tibby Graddige, who had come to assist at the weekly wash, and was full of suggestions as to what happened when a parcel of men got talking and drinking after the rent dinner. And just before Pippany's arrival she had sent Tibby down to the Dancing Bear with a message to the effect that Mr. Perris was urgently wanted at home.

      "Have you seen aught of your master?" she demanded, as Pippany lurched into the house-place and made for the seat whereat he took his meals. "Has he been with you since dinner-time?"

      "I hevn't seen nowt o' no maisters," answered Pippany, seating himself. "I hevn't set ees on Mestur Perris sin' braikfast, when he telled me to start on them tonnups. An' a rare hard day I've hed on it, an' all—t' sun wor that hot this efternoon 'at ye could ha' fried that theer bacon by it!"

      Rhoda made no reply. She had no cause of complaint against Pippany, and she set his supper and his pint of ale before him. As he began to eat and drink Tibby Graddige came back, black-browed and mysterious. She gave Rhoda a swift glance as she entered.

      "Now then?" said Rhoda.

      "They say 'at Mestur Perris left t' Dancin' Bear at just after four o'clock," said Tibby. "Mistress Pycock, t' landlady, she says she see'd him walkin' as straight and sober as a judge up t' road—he shakked hands wi' her afore he quitted t' premises."

      "Then where's he gone?" said Rhoda. "It doesn't take more than a quarter of an hour to walk up from the cross roads."

      Pippany Webster looked up, his cheeks bulging with bread and bacon.

      "It's i' my mind, missis," he said, "it's i' my mind 'at our maister said summat this mornin' about goin' over to Lowcroft yonder some time to-day to see about some young pigs 'at Mestur Turbey hes to sell. Happen he's gone theer when he come away thro' t' rent dinner?—killed two birds wi' one stone. I' that case he'd go across t' fields at t' back of the village. I know he wor wantin' some o' Mestur Turbey's young pigs—they're reight 'uns, is them young pigs—what they call Berkshires. I lay that's wheer he's gone."

      Rhoda considered this suggestion in silence. She and Tibby Graddige sat down to a cup of tea at the little table near the fire. Tibby, who had taken a drop of something comforting at the invitation of Mrs. Pycock, began to tell the news.

      "They've hed grand doin's to-day down at t' Bear," she said. "Mistress Pycock, she tell'd me what they hed to eat. Theer were a noble sirloin o' beef—t' biggest, she said, 'at they iver put on t' spit i' their kitchen—and a boiled leg o' mutton, wi' t' usual trimmin's, and a boiled ham—a grand 'un!—and roast fowls and boiled fowls, and plumpuddin's, and berry-pies and custards. I'll lay some on 'em weern't want their bellies fillin' for another week. And theer wor wine to sup, an' all—port wine and sherry wine, same as t' quality sups when they get their dinners. And Mistress Pycock, she says 'at they all did full justice to it, and t' steward complimented her varry high afore all t' company. And of course all t' farmers hed good reasons to be i' reight fettle for their meat, an' to rejoice an' all, 'cause theer were a reduction o' t' rents."

      "A what?" exclaimed Rhoda.

      "A reduction o' t' rents, as they call it," answered Tibby. "A rebate, like—givin' 'em all back summat out o' what they paid, 'cause his Lordship had pity on 'em on account o' t' wet harvest last year."

      "How much?" demanded Rhoda.

      "Why, Mistress Pycock, she said it wor what they term ten per cent.," replied Tibby, "an' I'm sure I don't know what that means, 'cause I'm no scholard; but she said, did Mistress Pycock, 'at it meant 'at wheer a farmer paid, as it weer, say fifty pound, t' steward handed five on it back to him. An' a varry nice surprise an' all, and I don't wonder 'at they hed a good heart for atein' their dinners. I could ate as much as iver were set afore me if I hed a few golden pounds i' my pocket 'at I hedn't expected to find theer!"

      "Aye, an' so could I!" said Pippany Webster. "Theer's nowt gives a man such a СКАЧАТЬ