Читать книгу The Parson O' Dumford - George Manville Fenn - Страница 11

“Well,” said Mrs Glaire, who found her task more difficult than she had apprehended, “the fact is, they say she has been seen talking to my son.”

“Is that all?” said the foreman, laughing in a quiet, hearty way.

“Yes, that is all, and for Daisy’s sake I want it stopped. Have you heard or known anything?”

“Well, to put it quite plain, the missus wants her to have Tom Podmore down at the works there, but the girl hangs back, and I found out the reason. I did see Master Dick talking to her one night, and it set me a thinking.”

“And you didn’t stop it?” exclaimed Mrs Glaire, sharply.

“Stop it? Why should I stop it?” said the foreman. “She’s getting on for twenty, and is sure to begin thinking about sweethearts. Ann did when she was nineteen, and if I recollect right, little fair-haired Lisbeth Ward was only eighteen when she used to blush on meeting Dick Glaire. I see her do it,” said the bluff fellow, chuckling.

“But that was long ago,” exclaimed Mrs Glaire, excitedly. “Positions are changed since then. My son—”

“Well, ma’am, he’s a workman’s son, and my bairn’s a workman’s daughter. I’ve give her a good schooling, and she’s as pretty a lass as there is in these parts, and if your son Richard’s took a fancy to her, and asks me to let him marry her, and the lass likes him, why I shall say yes, like a man.”

Mrs Glaire looked at him aghast. This was a turn in affairs she had never anticipated, and one which called forth all her knowledge of human nature to combat.

“But,” she exclaimed, “he is engaged to his cousin here, Miss Pelly.”

“Don’t seem like it,” chuckled the foreman. “Why, he’s always after Daisy now.”

“Oh, this is dreadful!” gasped Mrs Glaire, dropping her knitting. “I tell you he is engaged—promised to be married to his second cousin, Miss Pelly.”

“Stuff!” said Banks, laughing. “He’ll never marry she, though she’s a good, sweet girl.”

“Don’t I tell you he will,” gasped Mrs Glaire. “Man, man, are you blind? This is dreadful to me, but I must speak. Has it never struck you that my son may have wrong motives with respect to your child?”

“What?” roared the foreman; and the veins in his forehead swelled out, as his fists clenched. “Bah!” he exclaimed, resuming his calmness. “Nonsense, ma’am, nonsense. What! Master Dicky Glaire, my true old friend’s son, mean wrong by my lass Daisy? Mrs Glaire, ma’am, Mrs Glaire, for shame, for shame!”

“The man’s infatuated!” exclaimed Mrs Glaire, and she stared wonderingly at the bluff, honest fellow before her.

“Why, ma’am,” said the foreman, smiling, “I wouldn’t believe it of him if you swore it. He’s arbitrary, and he’s too fond of his horses, and dogs, and sporting: but my Daisy! Oh, for shame, ma’am, for shame! He loves the very ground on which she walks.”

“And—and”—stammered Mrs Glaire, “does—does Daisy care for him? Fool that I was to let her come here and be so intimate with Eve,” she muttered.

“Well, ma’am,” said the foreman, thoughtfully, “I’m not so sure about that.”

He was about to say more when Mrs Glaire stopped him.

“Another time, Banks, another time,” she said, hastily. “Here is my son.”

As she spoke Richard Glaire came into the garden with his hands in his pockets, and Eve Pelly clinging to one arm, looking bright and happy.

The foreman started slightly, but gave himself a jerk and smiled, and then, in obedience to a gesture from his mistress, he left the garden and returned to the foundry.