Читать книгу Doomsday - Warwick Deeping - Страница 31

Will Blossom worked until seven o'clock that evening on his master's beer and great good humour, helping to unload the wagon and carry the furniture into the house. The bedstead, the chest of drawers, and a little old mahogany wash-hand stand had to be persuaded up the narrow stairs. The rest of the purchases were left in the living-room.

Mrs. Blossom heard about it when her man came home.

"I tell 'ee 'e 'as bought a bedstead."

Mrs. Sarah laughed.

"Looks like business, hee, hee, hee, though most gal's first bed be a grass bank or a dry ditch bottom."

Her man growled at her.

"Muster Furze be'unt that sort."

"Oh, ben't he! She was round there to-day."

"Who be she?"

"That there Mary Viner. She looks ready for it, she do. Come to pick bluebells! Hee, hee, hee."

Her man, irresponsibly stubborn, clumped through into the scullery to wash. He, too, had been caught at the haymaking season, and for his sins was the mate of the lady who annexed and wore his old caps. To Will Blossom marriage was symbolized by a tongue, and a jeering voice that never had anything good to say of anyone when the particular person was not there to hear it.

Meanwhile Furze was busy, happily busy, a pipe in his mouth, and all the windows open wide. And so were the windows of his soul. Having cleared the living-room by carrying the kitchen table and the cupboard and other necessities into the kitchen, and added to them his own home-made gear, he arranged the new life about the old oak table. The oak chest looked well under the east window. The three Windsor chairs he tried in various positions. The lounge sofa, the long mirror, a little old pie-crust table and two rugs went into Mrs. Damaris' parlour. Certainly, the sofa needed some attention, some flowery piece of cretonne draped over it temporarily, and a man who could mend harness ought to be able to tackle such a job.

Last of all he unpacked the pink lustre and laid it out on the oak table, while Bobbo, puzzled by so many movements and mutations, sat with his head on one side and watched this new game. The evening light slanted through the west window, and the metallic and rosy glow of the old china seemed to float upon the dark sheen of the oak. Furze stood back with his hands in his pockets, and felt that the room was good.