Cutlass and Cudgel | Page 9

wiping her dry hands upon her apron, and gazed thoughtfully
with wrinkled brow straight before her for a minute, as if conjuring up
old scenes; then, taking down a basket as she moved inside, she began
to pack up the various things in the dairy, while Ram looked on.
"Father didn't say anything about a bottle of cream, mother," said the
boy, grinning.
"Then hear, see, and say nothing, my lad," cried his mother.
"And I don't think he said you was to send that piece of pickled pork,
mother."
"He said chickens, didn't he?"
"Said a chickun."
"Chicken means chickens," cried Mrs Shackle, "and you can't eat
chicken without pork or bacon. 'Tisn't natural."
"Father said two rolls of butter."
"Yes, and I've put three. There, these are all the eggs I've got, and you
mind you don't break 'em!"
"Oh, I say, mother," cried Ram, "aren't it heavy!"
"Nonsense! I could carry it on my finger; there, run along like a good
boy, and you must ask for her ladyship, and be very respectful, and say,
Mother's humble duty to you, my lady, and hopes you won't mind her
sending a bit o' farm fare."
"But she ought to be thankful to us, mother?"
"And so she will be, Ram?"
"But you make me speak as though we were to be much obliged to her
for taking all these good things."

"You take the basket, and hold your tongue. Father's right, you chatter a
deal too much."
Ram took the basket, grunted because it was so heavy, and then set off
up the hill-slope towards where the patch of thick woodland capped one
side of the deep valley, and at last came in sight of a grim-looking
stone house, with its windows for the most part covered by their
drawn-down blinds. Under other circumstances, with fairly kept
gardens and trim borders, the old-fashioned building, dating from the
days of Henry the Seventh, would have been attractive enough, with its
background of trees, and fine view along the valley out to the
far-stretching blue sea; but poverty seemed to have set its mark upon
the place, and the boy was so impressed by the gloomy aspect of the
house, that he ceased whistling as he went across the front, outside the
low wall, and round to the back, where his progress was stopped by the
scampering of feet, and a dog came up, barking loudly.
"Get out, or I'll jump on you--d'ye hear?" said Ram fiercely.
"Down, Grip, down!" cried a pleasant voice, and a girl of fifteen came
running out, looking bright and animated with her flushed cheeks and
long hair.
"Don't be afraid of him, Ram; he will not bite."
"I'm not afraid of him, Miss Celia; if he'd tried to bite me, I'd have
kicked him into the back-garden."
"You would not dare to," cried the girl indignantly.
"Oh yes, I would," said Ram, showing his white teeth. "Wouldn't do for
me to be 'fraid of no dogs."
The girl half turned away, but her eye caught the basket.
"What's that you came to sell?" she said.
"Sell? I don't come to sell. Father and mother sent this here. It's butter,

and chickuns, and pork, and cream, and eggs."
"Oh!" cried the girl joyously, "my mother will be so--"
She stopped short, remembering sundry lessons she had received, and
the tears came up into her eyes as she felt that she must be proud and
not show her delight at the receipt of homely delicacies to which they
were strangers.
"Take your basket to the side door, and deliver your message to
Keziah," she said distantly.
"Yes, miss," said Ram, beginning to whistle, as he strode along with his
basket, but he turned back directly and followed the girl.
"I say, Miss Celia," he cried.
"Yes, Ram."
"You like Grip, don't you?"
"Yes, of course."
"Then I won't never kick him, miss. Only I arn't fond on him. Here,
mate," he continued, dropping on one knee, "give us your paw."
The dog, a sturdy-looking deerhound, growled, and closed up to his
mistress.
"D'ye hear? Give's your paw. What yer growling about?"
The dog didn't say, but growled more fiercely.
"Grip, down! Give him your paw," cried the girl.
The dog turned his muzzle up to his mistress, and uttered a low whine.
"Says he don't like to shake hands with a lad like me," said Ram,
laughing.

"But I say he is to, sir," cried the girl haughtily. "Give him your paw,
Grip."
She took the dog by the ear and led him unwillingly toward the boy,
whose eyes sparkled with delight while the hound whimpered and
whined and protested, as if he had an unconquerable dislike to the act
he was called upon to perform.
"Now," cried the