Volume Iv Part 8 (1/2)

MRS. BRADMERE. Evening, Mr. Trustaford. [To BURLACOMBE]

Burlacombe, tell your wife that duck she sent up was in hard training.

[With one of her grim winks, and a nod, she goes.]

TRUSTAFORD. [Replacing a hat which is black, hard, and not very new, on his long head, above a long face, clean-shaved but for little whiskers] What's the old grey mare want, then? [With a horse-laugh]

'Er's lukin' awful wise!

G.o.dLEIGH. [Enigmatically] Ah!

TRUSTAFORD. [Sitting on the bench dose to the bar] Drop o' whisky, an' potash.

BURLACOMBE. [A taciturn, alien, yellowish man, in a worn soft hat]

What's wise, G.o.dleigh? Drop o' cider.

G.o.dLEIGH. Nuse? There's never no nuse in this 'ouse. Aw, no! Not wi' my permission. [In imitation] This is a Christian village.

TRUSTAFORD. Thought the old grey mare seemed mighty busy. [To BURLACOMBE] 'Tes rather quare about the curate's wife a-c.u.min'

motorin' this mornin'. Pa.s.sed me wi' her face all smothered up in a veil, goggles an' all. Haw, haw!

BURLACOMBE. Aye!

TRUSTAFORD. Off again she was in 'alf an hour. 'Er didn't give poor old curate much of a chance, after six months.

G.o.dLEIGH. Havin' an engagement elsewhere--No scandal, please, gentlemen.

BURLACOMBE. [Acidly] Never asked to see my missis. Pa.s.sed me in the yard like a stone.

TRUSTAFORD. 'Tes a little bit rumoursome lately about 'er doctor.

G.o.dLEIGH. Ah! he's the favourite. But 'tes a dead secret; Mr.

Trustaford. Don't yu never repate it--there's not a cat don't know it already!

BURLACOMBE frowns, and TRUSTAFORD utters his laugh. The door is opened and FREMAN, a dark gipsyish man in the dress of a farmer, comes in.

G.o.dLEIGH. Don't yu never tell Will Freman what 'e told me!

FREMAN. Avenin'!

TRUSTAFORD. Avenin', Will; what's yure gla.s.s o' trouble?

FREMAN. Drop o' eider, clove, an' dash o' gin. There's blood in the sky to-night.

BURLACOMBE. Ah! We'll 'ave fine weather now, with the full o' the mune.

FREMAN. Dust o' wind an' a drop or tu, virst, I reckon. 'Earl t'

nuse about curate an' 'is wife?

G.o.dLEIGH. No, indeed; an' don't yu tell us. We'm Christians 'ere in this village.