The Diary of a Goose Girl by Kate Douglas Smith Wiggin (phonics reader TXT) đ
- Author: Kate Douglas Smith Wiggin
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All but one of the goslings lived, like thousands of others who recover in spite of the doctors, but the Square Babyâs interest in the healing art is now perceptibly lessened.
CHAPTER XIVJuly 18th.
The day was Friday; PhĆbeâs day to go to Buffington with eggs and chickens and rabbits; her day to solicit orders for ducklings and goslings. The village cart was ready in the stable; Mr. and Mrs. Heaven were in Woodmucket; I was eating my breakfast (which I remember was an egg and a rasher) when PhĆbe came in, a figure of woe.
The Square Baby was ill, very ill, and would not permit her to leave him and go to market. Would I look at him? For he must have dowsed âimself as well as the goslings yesterday; anyways he was strong of paraffin and tobacco, though he âad âad a good barth.
I prescribed for Albert Edward, who was as uncomfortable and feverish as any little sinner in the county of Sussex, and I then promptly proposed going to Buffington in PhĆbeâs place.
She did not think it at all proper, and said that, notwithstanding my cotton gown and sailor hat, I looked quite, quite the lydy, and it would never do.
âI cannot get any new orders,â said I, âbut I can certainly leave the rabbits and eggs at the customary places. I know Argentâs Dining Parlours, and Songhurstâs Tea Rooms, and the Six Bells Inn, as well as you do.â
The Six Bells found the last poultry somewhat tough
So, donning a pair of PhĆbeâs large white cotton gloves with open-work wrists (than which I always fancy there is no one article that so disguises the perfect lydy), I set out upon my travels, upborne by a lively sense of amusement that was at least equal to my feeling that I was doing PhĆbe Heaven a good turn.
Prices in dressed poultry were fluctuating, but I had a copy of The Trade Review, issued that very day, and was able to get some idea of values and the state of the market as I jogged along. The general movement, I learned, was moderate and of a âselectiveâ character. Choice large capons and ducks were in steady demand, but I blushed for my profession when I read that roasting chickens were running coarse, staggy, and of irregular value. Old hens were held firmly at sixpence, and it is my experience that they always have to be, at whatever price. Geese were plenty, dull, and weak. Old cocks,âwhy donât they say roosters?âdeclined to threepence haâpenny on Thursday in sympathy with fowls,âand who shall say that chivalry is dead? Turkeys were a trifle steadier, and there was a speculative movement in limed eggs. All this was illuminating, and I only wished I were quite certain whether the sympathetic old roosters were threepence haâpenny apiece, or a pound.
The gadabout hen
Everything happened as it should, on this first business journey of my life, which is equivalent to saying that nothing happened at all. Songhurstâs Tea Rooms took five dozen eggs and told me to bring six dozen the next week. Argentâs Dining Parlours purchased three pairs of chickens and four rabbits. The Six Bells found the last poultry somewhat tough and tasteless; whereupon I said that our orders were more than we could possibly fill, still I hoped we could go on âselling them,â as we never liked to part with old customers, no matter how many new ones there were. Privately, I understood the complaint only too well, for I knew the fowls in question very intimately. Two of them were the runaway rooster and the gadabout hen that never wanted to go to bed with the others. The third was Cannibal Ann. I should have expected them to be tough, but I cannot believe they were lacking in flavour.
The only troublesome feature of the trip was that Mrs. Sowerbuttâs lodgers had suddenly left for London and she was unable to take the four rabbits as she had hoped; but as an offset to that piece of ill-fortune the Coke and Coal Yard and the Bicycle Repairing Rooms came out into the street, and, stepping up to the trap, requested regular weekly deliveries of eggs and chickens, and hoped that I would be able to bring them myself. And so, in a happy frame of mind, I turned out of the Buffington main street, and was jogging along homeward, when a very startling thing happened; namely, a whole verse of the Bailiffâs Daughter of Islington:â
âAnd as she went along the high road,
The weather being hot and dry,
She sat her down upon a green bank,
And her true love came riding by.â
That true lovers are given to riding by, in ballads, I know very well, but I hardly supposed they did so in real life, especially when every precaution had been taken to avert such a catastrophe. I had told the Barbury Green postmistress, on the morning of my arrival, not to give the Thornycroft address to anybody whatsoever, but finding, as the days passed, that no one was bold enough or sensible enough to ask for it, I haughtily withdrew my prohibition. About this time I began sending envelopes, carefully addressed in a feigned hand, to a certain person at the Oxenbridge Hydro. These envelopes contained no word of writing, but held, on one day, only a bit of down from a henâs breast, on another, a goose-quill, on another, a glossy tail-feather, on another, a grain of corn, and so on. These trifles were regarded by me not as degrading or unmaidenly hints and suggestions, but simply as tests of intelligence. Could a man receive tokens of this sort and fail to put two and two together? I feel that I might possibly support life with a domineering and autocratic husband,âand there is every prospect that I shall be called upon to do so,âbut not with a stupid one. Suppose one were linked for ever to a man capable of asking,ââDid you send those feathers? . . . How was I to guess? . . . How was a fellow to know they came from you? . . . What on earth could I suppose they meant? . . . What clue did they offer me as to your whereabouts? . . . Am I a Sherlock Holmes?ââNo, better eternal celibacy than marriage with such a being!
She was unable to take the four rabbits
These were the thoughts that had been coursing through my goose-girl mind while I had been selling dressed poultry, but in some way they had not prepared me for the appearance of the aforesaid true love.
To see the very person whom one has left civilisation to avoid is always more or less surprising, and to make the meeting less likely, Buffington is even farther from Oxenbridge than Barbury Green. The creature was well mounted (ominous, when he came to override my caprice!) and he looked bigger, and, yes, handsomer, though that doesnât signify, and still more determined than when I saw him last; although goodness knows that timidity and feebleness of purpose were not in striking evidence on that memorable occasion. I had drawn up under the shade of a tree ostensibly to eat some cherries, thinking that if I turned my face away I might pass unrecognised. It was a stupid plan, for if I had whipped up the mare and driven on, he of course, would have had to follow, and he has too much dignity and self-respect to shriek recriminations into a womanâs ear from a distance.
The creature was well mounted
He approached with deliberation, reined in his horse, and lifted his hat ceremoniously. He has an extremely shapely head, but I did not show that the sight of it melted in the least the ice of my resolve; whereupon we talked, not very freely at first,âmen are so stiff when they consider themselves injured. However, silence is even more embarrassing than conversation, so at length I begin:â
Bailiffâs Daughter.ââIt is a lovely day.â
True Love.ââYes, but the drought is getting rather oppressive, donât you think?â
Bailiffâs Daughter.ââThe crops certainly need rain, and the feed is becoming scarce.â
True Love.ââAre you a farmerâs wife?â
Bailiffâs Daughter.ââOh no! that is a promotion to look forward to; I am now only a Goose Girl.â
True Love.ââIndeed! If I wished to be severe I might remark: that I am sure you have found at last your true vocation!â
Bailiffâs Daughter.ââIt was certainly through no desire to please you that I chose it.â
True Love.ââI am quite sure of that! Are you staying in this part?â
Bailiffâs Daughter.ââOh no! I live many miles distant, over an extremely rough road. And you?â
True Love.ââI am still at the Hydropathic; or at least my luggage is there.â
Bailiffâs Daughter.ââIt must be very pleasant to attract you so long.â
True Love.ââNot so pleasant as it was.â
Bailiffâs Daughter.ââNo? A new proprietor, I suppose.â
True Love.ââNo; same proprietor; but the house is empty.â
Bailiffâs Daughter (yawning purposely).ââThat is strange; the hotels are usually so full at this season. Why did so many leave?â
True Love.ââAs a matter of fact, only one left. âFullâ and âemptyâ are purely relative terms. I call a hotel full when it has you in it, empty when it hasnât.â
Bailiffâs Daughter (dying to laugh, but concealing her feelings).ââI trust my bulk does not make the same impression on the general public! Well, I wonât detain you longer; good afternoon; I must go home to my evening work.â
True Love.ââI will accompany you.â
Bailiffâs Daughter.ââIf you are a gentleman you will remain where you are.â
True Love.ââIn the road? Perhaps; but if I am a man I shall follow you; they always do, I notice. What are those foolish bundles in the back of that silly cart?â
Bailiffâs Daughter.ââFeed for the pony, please, sir; fish for dinner; randans and barley meal for the poultry; and four unsold rabbits. Wouldnât you like them? Only one and sixpence apiece. Shot at three oâclock this morning.â
True Love.ââThanks; I donât like mine shot so early.â
Bailiffâs Daughter.ââOh, well! doubtless I shall be able to dispose of them on my way home, though times is âard!â
True Love.ââDo you mean that you will âpeddleâ them along the road?â
Bailiffâs Daughter.ââYou understand me better than usual,âin fact to perfection.â
He dismounts and strides to the back of the cart, lifts the covers, seizes the rabbits, flings some silver contemptuously into the basket, and looks about him for a place to bury his bargain. A small boy approaching in the far distance will probably bag the game.
Bailiffâs Daughter (modestly).ââThanks for your trade, sir, rather ungraciously bestowed, and we âopes for a continuance of your past fyvors.â
True Love (leaning on the wheel of the trap).ââLet us stop this nonsense. What did you hope to gain by running away?â
Bailiffâs Daughter.ââDistance and absence.â
True Love.ââYou knew you couldnât prevent my offering myself to you sometime or other.â
Bailiffâs Daughter.ââPerhaps not; but I could at least defer it, couldnât I?â
True Love.ââWhy postpone the inevitable?â
Bailiffâs Daughter.ââDoubtless I shrank from giving you the pain of a refusal.â
True Love.ââPerhaps; but do you know what I suspect?â
Bailiffâs Daughter.ââIâm not a suspicious person, thank goodness!â
True Love.ââThat, on the contrary, you are wilfully withholding from me the joy of acceptance.â
Bailiffâs Daughter.ââIf I intended to accept you, why did I run away?â
True Love.ââTo make yourself more desirable and precious, I suppose.â
Bailiffâs Daughter (with the most confident coquetry).ââDid I succeed?â
True Love.ââNo; you failed utterly.â
Bailiffâs Daughter (secretly piqued).ââThen I am glad I tried it.â
True Love.ââYou couldnât succeed because you were superlatively desirable and precious already; but you should never have experimented.
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