Alls Well | Page 5

up to him;
and she was never tired of assuring Christie that her weakness and
suffering were entirely the result of her own idle disinclination to rouse
herself. Thus urged, Christie did sometimes try to rouse herself, the
result being that when deprived of the stimulating presence of Aunt
Tabitha, she was fit for nothing but bed for some time afterwards. It
was a good thing for her that Aunt Tabitha's family kept her busy at
home for the most part, so that her persecutions of poor Christie were

less frequent than they would otherwise have been.
Mr Thomas Hall, the younger brother of Roger and Alice, had the air of
a man who had been stood up to, until he had lost all power or desire of
standing up for himself. He remarked that it was a fine morning with an
aspect of deprecation that would have made it seem quite cruel to
disagree with him, even if it were raining hard. He never contradicted
his Tabitha: poor man, he knew too well what would come of it! It
would have been as easy for him to walk up to the mouth of a loaded
cannon when the gunner was applying the match, as to remark to her, in
however mild a tone, that he preferred his mutton boiled when he knew
she liked it roasted. Yet he was a good man, in his meek unobtrusive
way, and Christie liked her Uncle Thomas next best to her father and
Aunt Alice.
"Christie, I marvel you are not weary!" said her lively, robust cousin
Friswith [a corruption of Frideawide], one day.
Not weary! Ah, how little Friswith knew about it!
"I am by times, Friswith," said Christie meekly.
"Mother saith she is assured you might have better health an' you
would. You lie and lie there like a log of wood. Why get you not up
and go about like other folks?"
"I can't, cousin; it hurts me."
"Hurts you, marry! I wouldn't give in to a bit of a hurt like that! I never
mind being hurt."
Christie silently doubted that last statement.
"Hear you, Christie?"
"Yes, Friswith, I hear."
"Then why rouse you not up, as Mother saith?"

"I can't, Friswith; my head pains me this morrow."
"Lack-a-daisy, what a fuss you make o'er a bit of pain! Well, I must be
away--I've to go to Cranbrook of an errand for Mother; she lacks a
sarcenet coif. If I can scrimp enough money out of this, I'll have some
carnation ribbon to guard my hat--see if I don't!"
"Oh, Friswith! It isn't your money, 'tis Aunt Tabitha's."
"I'll have it, though; I hate to go shabby. And I can tell you, I met
Beatrice Pardue last night, with a fresh ribbon on hers. I'll not have her
finer than me. She's stuck-up enough without it. You look out on
Sunday as I go by the window, and see if my hat isn't new guarded with
carnation. I'll get round Mother somehow; and if she do give me a
whipping, I'm not so soft as you. Good-morrow!"
"Friswith, don't!"
Friswith only laughed as she closed the door on Christabel, and ran off
lightly down the Cranbrook road.
CHAPTER THREE.
THE COMFORTABLE JUSTICE.
Mr Justice Roberts sat in his dining-room after supper, with a tankard
of ale at his elbow. Had the "pernicious weed" been discovered at that
date, he would probably also have had a pipe in his hand; but tobacco
being yet a calamity of the future, the Justice was not smoking.
He was, however, very comfortable. He sat in a big leather chair, which
rested his portly figure; he had just had a good supper, consisting of a
partridge pie and a dish of juicy pears; he had sold a horse that morning
at considerable profit; his mind was as easy as his body.
There was only one thing the occurrence of which Mr Roberts would
have thought it worth his while to deprecate at that moment. This was,
anybody coming to bother him. The worthy Justice did not like to be

bothered. A good many people are of the same opinion. He had that
evening but one enemy in the world, and that was the man who should
next rap at his house door.
"Rap-a-tap-tap-tap!"
"Go to Jericho!" said the Justice to the unseen individual who was thus
about to disturb his rest. "I want none of you. Why on earth can't you
let a man alone?--What is it, Martha?"
"Please you, Master, 'tis Master Benden would have a word with you."
"What can the companion want?" mildly growled the Justice. "Well! let
him in, and bring another tankard. Good evening, Master Benden. A
fine autumn eve, trow."
Mr Benden's face said that he had come to talk about