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7* ^ Ujt 7%Ai C: yf '^fy > > • • : :;^^^i' < -7 * ■'V 'Wj' 1 ■ ! Ji. > * ■ » / \ * • / i % » d 1 f THE VILLAGE COMEDY Cheap Editions of Popular SoyaIs.— Two SblllliiS! EacL "™ ""■■ " Br JUSTIM MCCARTEIY. ClU4 f/lTr tUtn/l I Til YtSs Tr^'aal BV Mni LOVETT CAHkE.OI?' ^Hf rfn-u evfi I £J«vbi-i'ili * I hilar Stma and 7W«r, | Tin J ittv" c™^"^ By JAMBS CRSENWOOD.— TiU TVu^, aVTHOa HARt^ I 'm^^OM HOOtt ^^^ BiriUUj^llAWfrHORNE, SiTitaMieitnl. *coo8ald r>ftCQU01D. f Dsg 1^ FtamUts. la a WItatr Ci(r. PrimiMf. I Jfur^ H SKBTCHLEV. '"^aiT'Ai CHATTO AND WIMDUS, PICCADILLY. W. VILLAGE COMEDY MORTIMER AND FRANCES COLLINS ) SCHOLAH," "SWKET AND TWENTY,' J NEW EDITION %on)on CHATTO AND WINDUS, PICCADILLY \All riehls mcrvedA London: bradbvbt, agnewi ft co., printers, whitefriars. TO 923 MRS. BYRON BLEWITT =3[hi« §ook IS DEDICATED. CONTENTS. I CHAPTER '^°* I. THE COPSE HILL INN . . . , , . 1 II. THE COPSE HILL SHOP . . .... 6 in. THE HOUSE TO LET 12 IV. THE NEW COMER ... .... 17 V. THE HERO AT HOME 21 VI. THE HEROINE BY THE SEA 25 VII. A SINGED BUTTERFLY 80 VIII. MBS. 8ELFE AT WINTERSLOW 34 IX. MATERNAL AFFECTION 36 X. BRIGHTON ROMANCE 42 XI.  THE VICAR 62 XV, FIDUS ACHATES 68 XVI. THE TEMPLES 73 XVII. PUBLIC OPINION 77 XVIII. FIRST LOVE 83 XIX. JEST OR EARNEST? ..'.... 88 XX. forncett's den 92 XXI. APRIL FOOLS 96 XXII. 8H00LIN0 . . 102 XXIII. GOSSIP • . 108 XXIV. FACE TO FACE WITH THE PAST , . . . 113 XXV. FROM OXFORD TO COPSE HILL 116 XXVI.  MASTER OF HBRMENEUTICS 132 XXX, FLORA SOLITARIA 137 Vlll CONTENTS, CHAPTER XXXI. XXXII. XXXIII. XXXIV. XXXV. XXXVI. XXXVII. XXXVIII. XXXIX. XL. XLI. XLII. XLIII. XLIV. XLV. XLVI. XLV II. XLVIII. XLIX. L. LI. LII. LIII. LIV. LV. LVI. LTII. LVIIL LIX. LX. LXI. LXII. LXIII. LXIV. LXV. PAOK forncett's dinner party 141 good intentions 148 love's usual troubles 153 SHEEP AND GOATS 156 SCANDALUM MAGNATUM 163 **CAN SUCH THINGS BE?" 170 A woman's way 174 A MEETING 178 SUNSHINE AND SLANDER 181 COPSE HILL AND WINDERMERE 186 A PRIESTLY MISSION 189 VISITORS TO COPSE HILL 196 A MERRY MEETING 201 WHAT THE VILLAGE SAID 209 AN ENTANGLEMENT 211 JACK INDIGNANT 215 A CURTAIN CONVERSATION 221 A STORMY EVENING 223 THE SECRET OUT 227 THE COUSINS 231 FLORA REPENTANT 237 MORE GOSSIP 246 MARSTON SEBRIGHT AT COPSE HILL .... 256 A CONSULTATION 262 KATE*S TROUBLES 267 A LETTER FROM LEONORA. 269 THE parson's study 272 JACK IMPATIENT 278 LORD ARUN VISITS MR. JOHNSON 283 MR. temple's visitor 288 AN unexpected MEETING ...... 294 FORGIVENESS 300  810 THE VILLAGE COMEDY. c CHAPTER I. THE COPSE HILL INN. Comedy meaneth sweet play in a village. — British Birds, Valentine Landlords differ, friend. There be some put salt i' the tankard. Orson. . . . . Ay, a plague to them. They themselvefe drink not, so they spoil guod liquor. Old Play, " Let us go up this hill," said Frank Fomcett to his com- panion, "and we shall get a good view of the country round." Frank Fomcett and his young friend, Harry Rivers, were making an autumn tramp through Oakshire, and had taken the train from London to a Thames-side town, whence they had begun their walk. " What a splendid view ! " said Harry, as they reached the top of the knoll. " I wish we'd brought a glass," said Frank ; " we might make out some of the country.'* They were standing near a clump of trees, under which some beneficent person had placed a large bench. An old man was sitting on the bench, evidently resting from the load he had been carrying. As the gentlemen approached he got up, lifted his hat most courteously, and said : '* Gentlemen, I hope I am not in your way." Although his clothes looked ragged and old, he had no roughness in his manner, but showed a natural gentleness ; and his blue eyes were so bright, and long white hair so B 2 THE VILLAGE COMEDY, pictnresqae, that Harry Rivers, wbo was an impetuous youth, became enthusiastic about him, and wanted to find some way of offering him money, as ho thought by the appearance of his clothes he must need it. He said : ** Pray don't move. You must need rest if you have carried such a load as that up the hQl. Have you far to go ? " '' Not much farther, sir. But, you see, I aia*t as young as I was." " I daresay you are a good age,'* said Frank Forncett. " I'm in my eighty-five," said the old man. " Then, perhaps, you are the oldest inhabitant," said Frank ; ** there are generally two or three * oldest inhabitants ' about a village." " Well, sir, now that old Webb is gone, I suppose I am about the oldest. I am older than the church and the inn and the shop, and most of the houses in the village. But that church you see over there, sir, with the tall spire, is a sight older than me, for they say it's six hundred years." ** What is the name of this village ? " said Frank. " Copse Hill, sir." " And may I ask your name? " said Harry modestly, feeling that age should be respected. " Leonard Day, sir ; but I'm generally called old Leonard in these parts." " May I have the pleasure of making yon a present ? " said Harry, pushing five shillings into the old man's hand. " God bless you, sir," said Old Leonard in astonishment ; " you must be a most extraordinary good young gentleman." " If you are going to act in that way to all the picturesque ragged old men you meet in villages on your way," said Frank, " you'll have to write to your father before we come to the end of our tramp, and ask him for another cheque." ** But, look here," said Harry, as they made their way down the hill through yellow furze and purple heather, " what a pretty village ! Really, it is the prettiest I ever saw in my life. Just look at that inn in the broad sunlight, and the burly landlord at the door. What a picture ! and what a jolly little nest of a house there is enclosed by all those trees. And look at the village shop across the green there. What is it painted on the board ? Baeeb, Grocer, Draper, Beady- hade Clothes and Hats I I suppose that is the only shop. What a primitive place to be only thirty miles from London. How I should like to dream away my life here 1 I should like to live in that nest and work in the garden, and nail up THE COPSE HILL INN, 3 the roses and honoysackles on the walls, and never leave this peacef al spot I How I enyy yon, old fellow ; you could do all that if you like ; you are not obliged to work as I am ; I hear of nothing but my career — as if I cared for a career ! Why can't my father let me have enough to come and live in a cottage and be quiet ? " "My dear boy, you talk nonsense; you don't know tho world yet. In calculating life you leave no room for the passions of men, either good or evil." " But there can be no evil in such a place as this : surely everything must go smoothly here. There are no rival shop- keepers to hate one another, and the people who live in the cottages round must be good when they have such beautiful country always before their eyes. I can understand that in squalid streets, in close towns, there must be everything that is bad ; but in such a lovely spot as this people cannot help being good." " Well, let us go in and taste the village ale, and 1*11 bet you a cigar, Frank, that in a very few minutes I'll show you that there is as much evil speaking, lying, and slandering here as anywhere ; and I'll bet another cigar that the shqpkeeper and innkeeper have a quarrel." They entered the village inn, the Pleiades. ''A fine morning, gentlemen," said Biggins, the landlord, a man of the Daniel Lambert build. There was a kind of surli- ness in his civility. " Yes," said Frank Forncett, " it is a fine morning. Wo want to taste your ale, landlord, and perhaps you can give us a bit of bread and cheese." "Come in, sir," said Biggins. '* Now then, some bread and cheese and ale," said Biggins to his wife, a pleasant-looking woman, who seemed rather above her position. " Will you walk into the parlour," she said, " and it shall be brought to you." " No, thank you," said Frank, whose idea was gossip, " it will do here." The " bar " of the Pleiades was a small room with a bow window, which enabled you to see what was going on either up or down the road, and there was an aggressive clock over the fireplace. Mrs. Biggins busied herself to supply the travellers' wants, and old Biggins, whose body seemed tgo heavy for his legs, flopped down on the window-seat, and eyed them drowsily. 4 THE VILLAGE COMEDY. Harry Rivers was somewliat disappointed with what he sup- posed was an ideal landlord. His burly form at the doorway, seen from the hill, looked picturesque ; bnt nearer inspection showed that his fibre was coarse and his frame heavy. " This is a very pretty village, landlord ; it is called Copse Hill, is it not ? " " Yes," said Biggins, with a gmnt. " Do you know the population of the place ? " said Frank. Biggins scarcely understood the meaning of this. " How many people ? " explained Frank. " Well, sir," he answered slowly, " I don't know that I've ever counted, but there's a main few comes here for beer. It's a dead-and-alive sort of place, and wouldn't do me much good but for the farming and carrying." " Oh ! then you are a farmer and carrier," said Frank. *' By the way, you've a famous man somewhere in these parts, I believe." " A famous man ! I haven't heard of him," said Biggins. " Have you ? " he said, addressing his wife, as she came in with the bread and cheese. " No," she said. " I don't know of anyone about here particularly famous. There's Sir Herbert West and Squire Ashley, and Mr. Perivale and Captain Lovelace." " No, I mean Mr. Manly Frowde ; doesn't he live in these parts ? " " Oh, yes," said the landlady ; " but he's nobody ; he lives just over there in a little house behind those trees ; but he's nobody at all : he keeps no carriage, and has only an odd man about the place. We don't take him as much account, SIT. " So much for honour in one's own village, Harry," said Frank. " Have you a post-office here? " said Frank to Mrs. Biggins. He had noticed that the village shop was a post-office, and wanted to hear what was the landlord's opinion of the- shop^ keeper. " Tes, sir," said Mrs. Biggins ; " it is over at the shop there." ^ " They seem to sell everything there," said Frank. ** Who keeps the shop ? " " Miss Tattleton," said the landlady. " And a nice character she is," said Biggins, who suddenly sat upright, as if he had found something sufficiently worth sitting upright for. " Why, I wouldn't post a letter there THE <:OPSE HILL INN. S for anything. Not I, I'd rather have my old mare ont and trot off to Wenley to post my letter. It was all along of that there fellow who lives in there," pointing to Manly Frowde's place,- ''that she got that post-office. We used to have a pillar-box, and quite enongh too, but that there fellow in there mnst have a post-office ; a pillar-box ain't good enongh for him. And so he writes to some of these here people np in London, and he gets jnst what he likes. Why, if a poor fellow gets a drop too mnch and makes a bit of a noise oat- side here, he writes to some of these here people, and down come the police on us. They say now he's going to have a telegraft down here, but I shan't send no telegrafts through that busybody. Miss Tattleton, and I don't know who else wm." Biggins seemed inclined to go on, but was out of breath with such a long speech. His remarks were generally laconic, unless some one whom he considered his enemy was men- tioned. At this time Miss Tattleton and Mr. Manly Frowde happened to be his chief enemies. " I say, Harry," said Frank, quietly, "two cigars." Harry's face had certainly lost a trifle of its sunshine. " Cigars, sir, did you say ? " put in Mrs. Biggins. " No, thank you, we've plenty with us." Harry qaietly pulled out his case and ^offered it to Frank, who took twp cigars with a quiet air of amusement. As they walked away Mrs. Biggins stationed herself at tho bar window to see which way they went. " G^oing over to the old cat, I suppose," grunted Biggins. " Don't think much of them gents." " The eldest one was no gentleman, I should say," observed Mrs. Biggins, '' for he wears almost as shabby a coat as that Frowde." "Perhaps they've come after the silver spoons," said Biggins. " There they go into the shop," said Mrs. Biggins, " A nice lot of lies she'll tell 'em," said the landlord. 6 THE VILLAGE COMEDY, CHAPTER 11. THE COPSE HILL SHOP. gossip, thou delicious thing ! Thou tirest not, like love or liquor : When there's a story with a sting How shrill tongues move, how green eyes flicker. " Well, Harry, what do yon think of your ideal village landlord? " said Fomcett. " He certainly does not seem to be living in charity with his neighbours, bnt then he may be an exception. Perhaps we shall find the shopkeeper more amiably disposed. Good morning," he said to a middle-aged, brisk-looking woman who opened the shop door as the two gentlemen approached. The door was divided in two, and hnmble customers squeezed through half as best they might, but when Miss Tattleton saw anyone of consequence coming, she generally unbolted the other half, and gave a courteous greeting. Though not always might the greeting be courteous: it would partly depend on the day of the week. Miss Tattle- ton was occasionally visited by commercial gentlemen, who prowl from place to place with long faces and long bills, and whose faces elongate if they do not happen to receive pre- cisely the sum of money they expect, since they know that their employers will visit on them the sins of their customers. Miss Tattleton gave long credit to villagers, which was perhaps worse for them than for herself, as when once they had run up a heavy score they found it almost impossible to pay it quite off. Still, as she would observe, the poor things must not starve, and no doubt she saved many a family from going on the parish in the time of their distress. Then when there were weeks of frost in winter, or wet weather in summer, half the parish would be taking credit from the village shop, hoping for better days soon. Miss Tattleton's travellers did not share her sympathy with the poor, but only wanted their money, and she, in disgust, nicknamed them "fiends." Therefore, should you go to her shop when she has had a visit from a fiend, you will not find her in a goo'd temper. Her dormant cynicism will be developed. She will not have a good word for any- one, and will describe all her neighbours in unpolished epigrams. THE COPSE HILL SHOP. 7 Miss Tattleton to-day is radiant. It is a good harvest, her poor enstomers are bringing in money, and there is plenty for any fiend that may turn up. Besides, she sees a couple of strangers, and anything new is her delight. Dressed in a bright cotton dress, and pleased with herself and all the world, she looks twenty years younger than she probably is. " Good morning, sir," she said, in answer to Harry's greet, ing. " Will you take seats, gentlemen ? *' "No, thank you," said Harry, who at once sat on the counter, and began surveying the contents of the shop. It was a small room with a counter on each side, where were draperies and groceries of all sorts ; cheese, butter, lard, eggs, sweets, corduroys, smockfrocks, gaiters, crockery, tin- ware ; and from the ceiling hung brooms and brushes, boot-s and shoes, candles, gridirons, teapots, saucepans, and many other things. "What a curious mixture," said Harry. "You can get everything you want, from a rasher of bacon for breakfast to a candle to light you to bed." " Yes, sir, and some paper and envelopes to write to your sweetheart," said Miss Tattleton. "But don't you want something of this sort ? " and she handed him a pair 'of baby's socks. She always has a touch of impertinence, some* times pleasant, and sometimes spiteful. " I am rather too old to wear them," said Harry, "and too young to want them for somebody else." " There would be no harm in having a pair ready," said Frank, who entered into the fun of the thing. " Your time must come." " It doesn't come to everyone," said Miss Tattleton, " or I should be a grandmother by now ; but what can I serve you with?" "I have come for some postage stamps, and to know whether you have any bad people in these parts," said Frank. " Postage stamps are plentiful, but bad people are scarce. We are a very well behaved village : the parson works so hard that they think of making him a bishop, the school- master talks Latin, the innkeeper sells good beer, and never uses bad language, and as for myself I try to prevent gossip. There's somebody across the way who writes books and never puts any of us into them, though there is great temptation, as we are a queer lot." Miss Tattleton thought herself great at irony. 8 THE VILLAGE COMEDY, " What a jolly place this mnst be to live in," said Rivers. " Is there a cottage to let ? " he said jokingly, " with just room to swing a cat in." " We don*t allow swinging cats in this village. Yon wonld not swing that beauty, would you ? " pointing to a magnifi- cent mouser, with long fur, too lazy to open her eyes. * ** If I tried, her mistress might scratch, if she didn't. But how about a cottage ? " said Rivers. " I have heard that the gentleman who lives acfoss the lane there is going away. He wants to marry a few daughters, and young men are scarce about here." ** Now, Fomcett, wouldn't that place suit you ? You might take the house and one of the daughters as well, and I could come and stay with you." "Is that house really to be let?" said Frank Fomcett, seriously. ''Well, sir, I had it from the coachman, as had it from the lady's-maid, that the family thinks of going to live near London to bring the youngest young lady out. They haven't put up a notice to let, but IVe heard they have employed an agent, and I know people have been coming to see it, so there Would be no harm in inquiring." " And so your neighbour opposite writes books ? " said Frank ; " but I suppose none of you read them," " I don't read his rubbish," said Miss Tattleton ; " but I'm told he puts me in his books and says I keep a scandal-shop. I gave him a bit of my mind one day, and told him he was ruining my business by saying that. At our * Penny Read- ings ' he reads a lot of foolish verses about the people here, and fancies he is going to keep us all in order, though I do think he has improved the language of the landlord over the way, who used to swear awful till Mr. Frowde made fun about it at a penny reading." " But I thought you were aU such good people, and that there was no swearing or slandering or anything wrong.' In such a lovely peaceful little place as this you ought to live like a happy family," said enthusiastic Harry. *' You had better come and show us the way, sir," answered Miss Tattleton. " And who lives in that house ? " said Frank Forncett, pointing to a good-sized red- brick house lying opposite to the left, behind a couple of acres of meadow. " Ob, that is Mrs. Selfe's. She is a very queer old lady. She has two pretty daughterB, but she treats them so badly 1 THE COPSE HILL SHOP. 9 they won't live with her. So there she is in that big honse all by herself. She has got a different religion from us, bat she comes to church sometimes, and always sits down at the parts abont Jesus Christ and the Holy Ghost. She never spends any money in the neighbourhood, or does anything for . anybody ; so the sooner she goes the better. Her daughters come to visit Mrs. Manly Frowde, and the old lady don't like to have her own flesh and blood so near her; so they say she's going, and that will be another house tp let, which perhaps might suit you, sir," said Miss Tattleton, turning to Harry Rivers. *' But I shouldn't know what to do with such a big house all to myself," said Harry. " Oh ! you could easily find some one to share it with you. There are a great many young ladies in these parts wanting husbands. Why, Mr. Urgent, the Vicar of Battlefield, has eight grown-up daughters, and only one is married. She has just married her father's curate ; you might choose any one of the other seven." *' Perhaps you'll choose for me," replied Harry. '^ They're all such beauties that if I was a gentleman I should not know which to choose," said Miss Tattleton. " And who is your clergyman here ? " said Frank Forncett. " Mr. Bonfellow, sir, and a downright good fellow he is. People do complain of him sometimes, but they are never satisfied. They say he takes too many holidays, and then the old men and women have to die without him, which they don't think right ; and they say he gives to people who want, whatever they are, whether they are chapel people, or drunkards, or anything else bad ; and he will even help a woman in distress who has got a baby without first getting a husband, and there are plenty of that sort about here." " Shocking," said Frank Fomcett ; " you wouldn't help such a creature, would you ? " " Of course not," said Miss Tattleton, with mock gravity. Though Miss Tattleton has been known to nurse a man in delirium tremens, when his wife and aU his friends were frightened to go near him ; and she never flinches when she is asked to go and sit up with a fever or small-pox patient. She does not deny help to the worst of characters, and would assist her greatest enemy if he were in distress. To the woman with a baby and without a husband she would no doubt give a severe sColding — and some clothes for tho baby. lo THE VILLAGE COMEDY. " Do yon know if Mr. Bonfellow is related to Sir Richard BonfeUow ? " said Frank. "Yes, sir ; lie is his youngest son." " Ah ! I know the old gentleman," said Frank, tnming to Harry, " and a grand old boy he is ! " ''Well, madam/' said Frank, who treated all women re- spectfully, " I will take my postage stamps and depart. Perhaps I shall have the pleasure of seeing you again some day." '' I hope so, sir," she replied, and she bowed them out. " What nice fellows ! " she said to her niece, Susan, who had been upstairs putting on her afternoon gown, but had been down for the last five minutes watching them through the little parlour window that looked into the shop. " What a swell the young one looked ! The old one looks more like Mr. Frowde's 80i*t, in his shabby old coat," said Susan. "Yes, but do you know," said her aunt, "that I beliere the old one means to go and look at old Wemys's house, and I shouldn't be surprised if he took it ; for he said he might have the pleasure of seeing me again, and he seems to know old Dick's father." Old Dick was Miss Tattleton's way of speaking of the Bey. Bichard Bonfellow. She had such nicknames for most of her neighbours. " I shouldn't have thought he was much, from his clothes, aunt." " I didn't at first, but I could soon see he was a real gentle- man," said Miss Tattleton, who fancied she was clever at discerning true gentlefolk, though if she had been questioned she would hardly have been able to say what her standard of gentility was. Most people of her class, and also a much higher class, fix it at a carriage and pair of horses. The pair is necessary — one horse would not do. A pony-chaise or a gig may mean respectability, but a true gentleman or lady must have a pair of horses. Now Miss Tattleton was somewhat of a Radical in this matter : she would pay deference to anyone who arrived at her shop in a carriage-and-pair, but she would express her free opinion of them all the same. "Mean wretches ! " she exclaimed of one family, as they went from her shop ; they try to beat everybody down, and get every- thing as cheap as they can, and begrudge their servants a bit of extra tea and Sugar, and all to keep a pair of horses in front of them. I don't call them real gentlefolks." THE COPSE HILL SHOP. \i A customer came into the shop. She was a flighty-looking yonng person from the village inn. Miss Tattleton knew that this jonng woman never came into her shop except as an excuse for asking questions, so she fancied — and rightly — that the two strangers who had just left were the objects of curiosity. '* I want an 'air-net and a yard of elastic," said the young person, simpering. *' What lovely weather, Miss Tattleton. I have just been for a little walk, and I met two gentlemen going into Wemys's house. I suppose they are friends of Mr. Wemys. They had lunch at our house." The truth was that Mrs. Biggins had told her daughter to walk up the road and watch where the two gentlemen went when they left Miss Tattleton's. Miss Taiileton was shrewd enough to guess this, and knew that the young woman wanted to know all about them. " No, they're no friends of his. They've been sent down here by the Government to enquire about the water. So they came to me first to know what I had to say, and now they have gone to Mr. Wemys." ''Bui mamma said they were quite strangers, and knew nothing about anyone in the place, and hardly knew the name of the place." "Of course not," said Miss Tattleton, "because they've never been here before; but I daresay they'll come again, and you'd bettei* tell your mother's man to look out, for they'll be down upon him.' ' The young woman tossed her head proudly, and quickly retreated, making up her mind not to visit Miss Tattleton again in a hurry. Which resolution she would no doubt keep till curiosity should overcome pride. " I've settled her for a time," said Miss Tattleton, as she wiped her spectacles, preparatory to settling down to her accounts. The fact was that Biggins, who would at any time cut off his nose to spite his face, had, at some trouble to himself, diverted the course of a brook which from time immemo- rial had supplied water to various houses in the village. It was Miss Tattleton's sole water-supply ; and after passing through her garden, it ran into Mr. Wemys 's grounds, and formed a dip for the use of his gardener. Miss Tattleton offended Biggins by pointing out to the sanitary inspector some nuisance on his premises : he, in revenge, caused holes to bo dug in the chalk to let the rivulet off, so that no water 12 THE VILLAGE COMEDY. passed beyond his own farm, and many ^miiies were incon- venienced. Mr. Wemys, who was especially annoyed, took action in the matter, bnt through the unsatisfactory state of the law obtained no redress. Biggins lost about fifty pounds over the litigation, and would probably in time have been brought to his senses, but Mr. Wemys, having decided to leave the neighbourhood, took no more trouble about it. CHAPTER III. THE HOUSE TO LET. Love you the man, with fine loquacious vein, Who pours small beer of talk as if 'twere dry champagne 7 '' She's an odd character," said Frank Fomcett, as he and Harry Bivers walked across the green from the village shop. At this moment a tall man passed through the gate of Mr. Manly Frowde's house, and lounged up the road reading a book. He wore an old velvet coat and a white waistcoat, and a battered straw hat with a red ribbon round it. The book he was reading seemed centuries old, with its yellow pages, and oak cover, and antique clasps. The little green opposite the village shop forms a triangle, and as Frank and Harry reached a comer of it they came close to the stranger. He had just closed his book, and seemed to be repeating something from it to himself, quite unconscious that anyone was near him. " This is Manly Frowde, 1 am sure," said Frank. " Let us pay reverence to genius." Whereupon the two gentlemen saluted him. Manly Frowde, suddenly seeing the salute, awkwardly touched the battered brim of his weather-beaten straw hat. "Are you seriously going to inquire about the house?" said Harry, as Frank showed signs of walking up to Mr. Wemys's gate. ^ Yes, I am ; I like the look of the place. It looks quaint and original, and there is some character to study here. If the house is neither too big nor too small, I have an impulse to take it." THE HOUSE TO LET 13 " You want to turn hermit, do you, after seeing everything ? Be on your guard. Hermits have been tempted in the lone- liest deserts.'* " It will be a new sensation to be tempted in a rustic comer like this. We have seen no daughters of Circe either at the village inn or the village shop, have we ? '' "Faith, I should think not," laughed Rivers. Mr. Wemys was a portly gentleman, who received them with an air of pomposity. He was one of those who put on a grand dignified manner to hide some defect. Such men are afraid to speak in a friendly way to people of a lower class in case their position should be mistaken. If a labourer ventured to remark to Mr. Wemys that it was a fine day, he would reply as if he patronized both the man and the weather. " Ah," thought Frank Fomcett, " I can see this man is a downright good fellow at heart, and I know what little de- fect he would hide by his manner. But he might be easy with me. Perhaps I can make him so before I have done with him." After they had seen the house, which was a tolerably good one, with four or five acres of land attached to it, and had received all necessary information, Frank asked a few questions about the neighbourhood. " Are you far from a station ? " said Frank. " Three and a half miles from the nearest, but that is a small one called Two Bridges, and we find Medenhithe, which is five miles away, the most convenient," said Mr. Wemys. "Ah," exclaimed Frank, "we have just walked from there." " Walked ? " said Mr. Wemys in astonishment. " You must be very tired and hungry ? Pray let me offer you some- thing." "Thank you, you are very kind; but a dozen miles is scarcely anything to me, and we got some bread and cheese at the inn. We intend making a tramp through the country, and took the train from town to Medenhithe this morning. We were* so much struck with the view from the knoll, and the pretty appearance of the village, that we halted, and going to the village shop for postage-stamps and gossip, we heard that you wished to let your house. I have for some time been looking for a house that should be quite in the country, and yet not too far from London, and not near a railway ; and I think this will exactly suit me. I should therefore like to take 14 THE VILLAGE COMEDY, it at once to prevent anyone else from haying it ; and if you will be kind enough to take my address, for I have not a card with me, we can afterwards settle all other matters." Mr. Wemys was delighted to get the house off his hands so easily, for he had a long lease, and paid a fancy rent, and found it difficult to induce anyone to take it. When the matter was quite settled, the hospitable Mr. Wemys said : " May I not persuade you to discontinue your perambula- tions for to-day, and to stay and dine with us ? We dine at six." " Thank you, I think we'd better tramp on." " No, no ; let me find your young friend and talk to him, and then I am sure you will stay." The " young friend " had, while looking over the stables, made acquaintance with young Wemys, a lively boy of twenty, who was waiting for his commission, and had to wait some time, as his name appeared a very long way down the list at the examination. For all that, he was cut out for a soldier — had a manly look, plenty of energy, a sound constitution, and just the proper amount of pugnacity. His algebra might be shaky, but his nerves were not ; and if he was dubious about the legs of that confounded isosceles triangle in the Pons Asinorum, he could use his own on a long tramp. He will probably make as good a figure as men mnch higher np the list. They were looking at some valuable little dogs that young Wemys was rearing, when Frank and Mr, Wemys joined them. Harry Rivers was quite willing to stay to dine. " But we've no clothes with us," he said, " except some trifles in our knapsacks. Our clean linen is ordered to be left in readiness for us at certain inns where we have arranged to stop, and we hope not to put on a dress-coat for a month." " Oh, never mind that," said young Wemys. " Look here, father," he said, turning to him, "you and I will dine as we are to keep these gentlemen company, and Ma and the girls will have to forgive us.*' Mr. Wemys liked the dignity of the family kept up by everyone appearing dressed for dinner, and young* Wemys, who was always a gentleman in any coat, used often to appear in morning dress. The old gentleman wonld put on his most dignified manner and inquire the reason, but his son would say, ** Late this evenihg, sir — watch slow — ^very sorry — shan't occur again." So it was arranged that they should stay to dine. THE HOUSE TO LET. 15 *' I think, Mr. Wemjs, we will sleep at the iun to-night, and start on our walk soon after daybreak to-morrow. Will yon let yonr servant engage some bed-rooms for ns ? " "I can hardly recommend you to go to the Pleiades, for Biggins, the landlord, is a most turbulent fellow and a great promote of discord in the parish. Will you allow me to accommodate you? " " Certainly not. You are very good, but I could not trouble you so far. I should like to go on very early in the morning, and would not take the liberty of disturbing your household. Is there another inn within reasonable distance ? " " There is one a few yards from my gate, which our friends have sometimes used when the house is full. If they can accommodate yon, I think you might be comfortable," said Mr. Wemys. *' Thank you," said Frank; " that will suit us. You have no lack of inns." '* Unfortunately, we have thirteen public-houses in the district for a population of 850. So you may well understand that we are not free from drunkenness in these parts, though the peasantry generally are exceedingly well behaved on the whole — very well behaved " — said Mr. Wemys, relapsing into his patronising tone when he thought of '* the lower orders." ** The shopkeeper is, I think, a little given to gossip and mis- chief-making, but an excellent woman in her position — rather a rough tongue sometimes, and requires to be kept in her place — apt to forget when she is speaking to her superiors," he said loftily ; " it is that man Biggins who demoralizes the villagers. . He encourages poachers and low characters, and anyone who has lost his place from dishonesty. I don't like to see a gentleman's servant hanging about at the Pleiades. I know he is doing no good there." " Your parson is Mr. Bonfellow, I hear," said Frank. " I know something of his family." ** Estimable young man," said Mr. Wemys, " though some- times a little lax in Church matters. A little more ritual would please me." "And you have Mr. Manly Frowde here ? " said Frank. " Yes," said Mr. Wemys ; " do you know him ? " " Only his works," said Frank. ' ** I have a speaking acquaintance with him, but we don't visit," said Wemys, in a tone which clearly meant that Manly Frowde ^ as somewhat beneath his notice. *' He's a clever writ-er," he continued patronisingly. 16 THE VILLAGE COMEDY, '^ Are yon much troubled with moming callers and dinner inyitations ? " asked Forncett. " No," said Wemys, who wished he had been more troubled in this way. " I do not find my neighbours very sociable \ in fact, the dnlness of the place makes me leave it. I do not care for society myself, but my young daughters must go out a little." " The dnlness will exactly suit me," said Frank. Frank Fomcett could easily see why Mr. Wemys was not likely to be much visited. There is no need to describe the dinner, which was well served and gaily eaten. Mrs. Wemys was a pleasant hostess, and the three young ladies agreeable enough, though they did not wound Harry Bivers's susceptible heart. He thought little Kitty lively and pretty, bnt then she was only a. child. They took leave early, and smoked a cigar with Wemys the younger, as he guided them to the Bed House, a quiet, well- conducted inn, where they slept right soundly. They were ofE again next morning at a very early hour, meaning that night to sleep at the town where King Alfred was born, and to climb the White Horse Hill the day after ; a good pull, with plenty of hill and dale, but they did not tire, being sound of wind and limb, and loving a long tramp in the open air. With the exception of some chops at East Ilsley (where mutton ought to be good considering its great sheep- fairs), they took nothing save the casual glass of ale till they reached the Bear, at Wantage. " What a glorious day we have had ! " said Harry Bivers, throwing himself into a chair, evidently built for the biggest farmer in the county. " What's to be had, waiter? " " Steak and stout," said the functionary promptly. "Hurrah!" exclaimed the exuberant Harry ; "no oysters, of course ? We're twenty thousand miles from anywhere. I say, Frank, has it occnred to you that you'll get nothing fit to eat at Copse Hill ? The old boy's mutton-cutlets yesterday wore mere fibre." " I shall get everything from London," said Forncett ; " Balph does all that for me. I take no trouble." " He's an invaluable fellow.'* " Ay, he is. He's a clear brain and an active body, and the stillest tongue I ever knew." Forncett went to bed that night well satisfied with what he had done so promptly. Always had he been given to neglect- ing the saying that "second thoughts are best;" but for that THE NEWCOMER, 1 7 propensity lie might Dot'at this moment have' been a bachelor. He slept soundly after his long tramp ; no vision of the night came to tell him that he had taken a step which would change the whole current of his life : no such presentiment reached him. The two pedestrians breakfasted together in the gayest humour, and tramped off early at five miles an hour in search of the Blowing Stone and the White Horse of Alfred. CHAPTER IV. TEE inSW COMES. Always a flutter of petticoats, always a whirlwind of chat, When a newcomer arrives in a village maiA^ellous slow : Tradesman hopes he has means, and may tarn out a thundering flat ; Damsel hopes h« has means, and may be a possible beau.-* CynicuB de Be Bustica, Mb. Wehts wished to leave The Birches as soon as possible, having heard of a house near town that would just suit him, while Frank Fomcett was anxious to get into his' new house. Therefore, about the middle of November several large vans arrived at The Birches, and the goods were moved in under the superintendence of Ralph. This was quite a sensation for the village, a nine days* wonder, at least. "Who is the new comer?" waa every-one's question. Mrs. Biggins oracularly remarked in the bar of the Pleiades that " whoever he was, he was no gentleman, as you might see by his dress." "Any horses and carriages? " asked a gentleman's coach- man. 