The Village by the River | Page 4

the valley, and the cottages and farmhouses dotted here and
there with a not unpleasing irregularity, and in the distance a softly
rising upland turning from blue to purple in the evening light.

"Yonder's the Court, where my people live," said Tom, jerking his whip
to a big house more than a mile away that peeped out from among the
trees. "It belonged to the old squire who was buried to-day, you know."
"Ah!" ejaculated his listener, not greatly interested, apparently, in the
information.
"It's a wonderful fine place, and they say as he who's to have it won't
hold no store by it. Pity, ain't it?"
Tom's companion broke into rather a disconcerting laugh.
"Look here, my lad, by the time you're thirty you won't give credit to
every bit of gossip that comes to your ears; you'll wait to know that it's
true before you pass it on, at any rate. This will be the forge you spoke
of, and there's the owner, sure enough, standing at the door. Thank you
for the lift, and here's a shilling for your trouble."
But Tom thrust away the proffered tip with a shake of his head.
"No, thank you; you kept the horse safe at the station."
"So, on the principle that one good turn deserves another, you'll give
me a lift for nothing. All right and thank you," said the man,
dismounting and lifting out his portmanteau. "Good night."
"Good night," said Tom, with an answering nod. "I wonder what his
business is?" he thought, as he pursued his way. "Shouldn't be surprised
if he was the engineer who's to see to the laying down of the new line;
he's that quick, smart way with him as if he'd been about a lot and knew
a thing or two."
"Lodgings!" echoed Allison, slowly, as the stranger reiterated his
request. "It's not a thing we are often asked for in Rudham. I'd make no
objection to taking you in myself, but Mrs. Allison's not partial to
strangers."
"I should be sorry to inconvenience Mrs. Allison; is there no one else

you can think of?"
"Mrs. Pink 'ud do it; but she's a baby who's teething, and fretful o'
nights."
"And that would not suit me!" said the newcomer, with decision.
"I have it!" cried Allison, bringing down his big hand with a resounding
slap upon his knee. "Mrs. Macdonald's the body for you! There's not a
better woman in Rudham, and I know 'em pretty well in these parts.
Her husband's only just gone up street; he were talkin' here not five
minutes ago. There's only their two selves, and the cottage one of the
best in the place."
"It sounds as if it would suit me down to the ground. And if Mrs.
Macdonald could give me shelter, even for a few nights, it would give
me time to look about me."
"Thinkin' of settlin' in these parts?" inquired Allison. "There's no house
as I knows on vacant."
"I've no settled plans at present," answered the stranger. "If you'll
kindly direct me to Mrs. Macdonald's, I'll go and try my fate."
"Eighth house from here, set back a bit from the road, with a little
orchard behind it; and you can say as I sent you," said Allison, feeling
his name a good enough recommendation for any stranger.
The door of the eighth house set back a little from the road was
partially open as the new arrival made his way up the box-bordered
path, with beds on either side of it gay with flowers; and before he
could knock a neatly dressed middle-aged woman threw it wide and
surveyed him from head to foot.
"And what may you be wanting, sir?" she asked, quite civilly.
"A lodging for a night or two. And Mr. Allison at the forge seemed to
think you might be inclined to take me in."

"I'm not sure as my John will wish it. But if you'll step inside I'll ask
him," replied Mrs. Macdonald, motioning him to a chair.
"Unless they turn me out by force, I shall stay," he said, looking round
him with a pleased smile.
It was not his fault, but "my John's" deafness, that caused him to hear
himself described as a "very decent man, who spoke as civil as a
gentleman; and it was awkward to find yourself in a strange place on a
Saturday night with nobody ready to put themselves about a bit to take
you in."
"John will yield in the long run," sighed the unwilling listener. "Mrs.
MacD. rules the roost, unless I'm greatly mistaken."
Apparently his conjecture was right, for in another minute the woman
reappeared to say that she and her husband were willing to let him have
the front bed and sitting-room if, after