A Bit O Love | Page 8

much as that.
MRS. BRADMERE. H'm!
MRS. BURLACOMBE. 'Tis funny rest an' 'e comin' 'ere for quiet after
that tearin' great London parish! 'E'm terrible absent-minded tu- -don't
take no interest in 'is fude. Yesterday, goin' on for one o'clock, 'e says
to me, "I expect 'tis nearly breakfast-time, Mrs. Burlacombe!" 'E'd 'ad it
twice already!
MRS. BRADMERE. Twice! Nonsense!
MRS. BURLACOMBE. Zurely! I give 'im a nummit afore 'e gets up;
an' 'e 'as 'is brekjus reg'lar at nine. Must feed un up. He'm on 'is feet all
day, gain' to zee folk that widden want to zee an angel, they're that busy;

an' when 'e comes in 'e'll play 'is flute there. Hem wastin' away for want
of 'is wife. That's what 'tis. An' 'im so sweet-spoken, tu, 'tes a pleasure
to year 'im--Never says a word!
MRS. BRADMERE. Yes, that's the kind of man who gets treated badly.
I'm afraid she's not worthy of him, Mrs. Burlacombe.
MRS. BURLACOMBE. [Plaiting her apron] 'Tesn't for me to zay that.
She'm a very pleasant lady.
MRS. BRADMERE Too pleasant. What's this story about her being
seen in Durford?
MRS. BURLACOMBE. Aw! I du never year no gossip, m'm.
MRS. BRADMERE. [Drily] Of course not! But you see the Rector
wishes to know.
MRS. BURLACOMBE. [Flustered] Well--folk will talk! But, as I says
to Burlacombe--"'Tes paltry," I says; and they only married eighteen
months, and Mr. Strangway so devoted-like. 'Tes nothing but love, with
'im.
MRS. BRADMERE. Come!
MRS. BURLACOMBE. There's puzzivantin' folk as'll set an' gossip the
feathers off an angel. But I du never listen.
MRS. BRADMERE Now then, Mrs. Burlacombe?
MRS. BURLACOMBE. Well, they du say as how Dr. Desart over to
Durford and Mrs. Strangway was sweethearts afore she wer' married.
MRS. BRADMERE. I knew that. Who was it saw her coming out of Dr.
Desart's house yesterday?
MRS. BURLACOMBE. In a manner of spakin' 'tes Mrs. Freman that
says 'er Gladys seen her.
MRS. BRADMERE. That child's got an eye like a hawk.
MRS. BURLACOMBE. 'Tes wonderful how things du spread. 'Tesn't
as if us gossiped. Du seem to grow-like in the naight.
MRS. BRADMERE [To herself] I never lied her. That Riviera excuse,
Mrs. Burlacombe--Very convenient things, sick mothers. Mr.
Strangway doesn't know?
MRS. BURLACOMBE. The Lord forbid! 'Twid send un crazy, I think.
For all he'm so moony an' gentlelike, I think he'm a terrible passionate
man inside. He've a-got a saint in 'im, for zure; but 'tes only 'alf-baked,
in a manner of spakin'.
MRS. BRADMERE. I shall go and see Mrs. Freman. There's been too

much of this gossip all the winter.
MRS. BURLACOMBE. 'Tes unfortunate-like 'tes the Fremans. Freman
he'm a gipsy sort of a feller; and he've never forgiven Mr. Strangway
for spakin' to 'im about the way he trates 'is 'orses.
MRS. BRADMERE. Ah! I'm afraid Mr. Strangway's not too discreet
when his feelings are touched.
MRS. BURLACOMBE. 'E've a-got an 'eart so big as the full mune. But
'tes no yuse espectin' tu much o' this world. 'Tes a funny place, after
that.
MRS. BRADMERE. Yes, Mrs. Burlacombe; and I shall give some of
these good people a rare rap over the knuckles for their want of charity.
For all they look as if butter wouldn't melt in their mouths, they're an
un-Christian lot. [Looking very directly at Mrs. BURLACOMBE] It's
lucky we've some hold over the village. I'm not going to have scandal. I
shall speak to Sir Herbert, and he and the Rector will take steps.
MRS. BURLACOMBE. [With covert malice] Aw! I du hope 'twon't
upset the Rector, an' 'is fute so poptious!
MRS. BRADMERE. [Grimly] His foot'll be sound enough to come
down sharp. By the way, will you send me a duck up to the Rectory?
MRS. BURLACOMBE. [Glad to get away] Zurely, m'm; at once. I've
some luv'ly fat birds.
[She goes into the house.]
MRS. BRADMERE. Old puss-cat!
[She turns to go, and in the doorway encounters a very little,
red-cheeked girl in a peacock-blue cap, and pink frock, who curtsies
stolidly.]
MRS. BRADMERE. Well, Tibby Jarland, what do you want here?
Always sucking something, aren't you?
[Getting no reply from Tibby JARLAND, she passes out. Tibby comes
in, looks round, takes a large sweet out of her mouth, contemplates it,
and puts it back again. Then, in a perfunctory and very stolid fashion,
she looks about the floor, as if she had been told to find something.
While she is finding nothing and sucking her sweet, her sister MERCY
comes in furtively, still frowning and vindictive.]
MERCY. What! Haven't you found it, Tibby? Get along with 'ee, then!
[She accelerates the stolid Tissy's departure with a smack, searches
under the seat, finds and picks up the deserted sixpence. Then very

quickly she