God's Good Man by Marie Corelli (best young adult book series .txt) đ
- Author: Marie Corelli
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Here Josey broke off in his narrative, and resumed his crawling pace.
âYou ainât finished, âave ye, Josey?â said Roger Buggins propitiatingly, drawing closer to the old man. âItâs powerful interestinâ, all this âere!â
Josey halted again.
âPowerful interestinâ? Oâ course it is! There ainât nobodyâs story wot ainât interestinâ, if ye onny knows it. Anâ itâs all six-anâ- twenty year agone now; but I can see thâ owld Squire still, anâ the nurse walkinâ slow up anâ down by the border of the field, hushinâ the baby to sleep. And âtwas a good sound baby, too, anâ thrived fine; anâ âfore we knew where we was, instid of a baby there was a little gel runninâ wild all over the place, climbinâ trees, swanninâ up hay-stacks anâ up to all sorts of mischiefâLord, Lord!â And Josey began to chuckle with a kind of inward merriment; âIâll never forget the day that child sat down on a wopsesâ nest anâ got all âer little legs stung;âshe was about five âear old then, anâ she never criedânot she!âthe little proud spitfire that she was, she jesâ stamped âer mite of a foot anâ she sez, sez she: âDid God make the wopses?â Anâ âer nurse sez to âer: âYes, oâ course, lovey, God made âem.â âThen I donât think much of Him!â sez she. Lord, Lord! We larfed nigh to split ourselves that arternoon;âwe was all makinâ âay anâ thâ owld Squire was workinâ wiâ us for fun-like. âI donât think much oâ God, father!ââsez Miss Maryllia, runninâ up to âim, anâ liftinâ up all âer petticuts anâ shewinâ the purtiest little legs ye ever seed; âNurse sez He made the wopses!â He-ee-ee-hor-hor- hor!â
A slow smile was reflected on the faces of the persons who heard this story,âa smile that implied lurking doubt as to whether it was quite the correct or respectful thing to find entertainment in an anecdote which included a description of âthe purtiest little legsâ of the lady of the Manor whose return to her native home was so soon expected,âbut Josey Letherbarrow was a privileged personage, and he might say what others dared not. As philosopher, general moralist and purveyor of copy-book maxims, he was looked upon in the village as the Nestor of the community, and in all discussions or disputations was referred to as final arbitrator and judge. Born in St. Rest, he had never been out of it, except on an occasional jaunt to Riversford in the carrierâs cart. He had married a lass of the village, who had been his playmate in childhood, and who, after giving him four children, had died when she was forty,âthe four children had grown up and in their turn had married and died; but he, like a hardy old tree, had still lived on, with firm roots well fixed in the soil that had bred him. Life had now become a series of dream pictures with him, representing every episode of his experience. His mind was clear, and his perception keen; he seldom failed to recollect every detail of a circumstance when once the clue was given, and the right little cell in his brain was stirred. To these qualities he added a stock of good sound common sense, with a great equableness of temperament, though he could be cynical, and even severe, when occasion demanded. Just now, however, his venerable countenance was radiant,âhis few remaining tufts of white hair glistened in the sun like spun silver,âhis figure in its homely smock, leaning on the rough ash stick, expressed in its very attitude benevolence and good-humour, and âthe purtiest little legsâ had evidently conjured up a vision of childish grace and innocence before his eyes, which he was loth to let go.
âShe was took away arter the old Squire was killed, wornât she?â asked Bainton, who was drinking in all the information he could, in order to have something to talk about to his master, when the opportunity offered itself.
âAy! ay! She was took away,â replied Josey, his smile darkening into a shadow of weariness; âThe Squireâs neck was broke with Fireflyâ every man, woman and child knows that about hereâanâ then âis brother came along, âim wot âad married a âMerican wife wiâ millions, anâ âadnât got no children of their own. Anâ they took the gel away with âemâa purty little slip of about fifteen then, with great big eyes and a lot of bright âair;âdonât none of ye remember âer?â
Mr. Buggins shook his head.
ââTwas afore my time,â he said. âI ainât had the âMother Huffâ moreân eight years.â
âI seed âer once,â said Baintonââbut onny onceâthat was when I was workinâ for the Squire as extra âand. But I disremember âer face.ââ
âThen ye never looked at it,â said Josey, with a chuckle; âor beinâ made man ye wouldnât âave forgot it. Howsomever, itâs âears ago anâ sheâs a woman growedâshe ainât been near the place all this time, which shows as âow she donât care about it, beinâ took up with âer âMerican aunt and the millions. Anâ sheâd got a nice little penny of âer own, too, for the old Squire left âer all he âad, anâ she was to come into it all when she was of age. Anâ now sheâs past beinâ of age, a woman of six-anâtwenty,-anâ âer rich uncleâs dead, they say, so I suppose she anâ the âMerican aunt canât work it out together. Eh, dear! Well, well! Changes there must be, and changes there will be, and if the Five Sisters is a-cominâ down, then thereâs ill-luck brewinâ for the village, anâ for every man, woman and child in it! Mark my wurrd!â
And he resumed his hobbling trudge, shaking his head dolefully.
âDonât say that, Josey!â murmured one of the women with a little shudder; âYou didnât ought to talk about ill-luck. Donât ye know itâs onlucky to talk about ill-luck?â
âNo, I donât know nothinâ oâ the sort,â replied Josey, âLuck there is, and ill-luck,âanâ ye can talk as ye like about one or tâother, it donât make no difference. Anâ thereâs some things as comes straight from the Lord, and thereâs others what comes straight from the devil, anâ yeâve got to take them as they comes. âTainât no use floppinâ on yer knees anâ cryinâ on either the Lord or the devil,â theyâs outside of ye anâ jest amusinâ theirselves as they likes. Mussy on me! Dâye think I donât know when the Lord âides âis face behind the clouds playinâ peep-bo for a bit, and lets the devil âave it all âis own way? Anâ donât I know âow, when old Nick is jesâ in the thick oâ the fun âavinâ a fine time with the poor silly souls oâ men, the Lord suddenly comes out oâ the cloud and sez, sez He: âNow ânuff oâ this âere; get thee behind me!â Anâ thenâanâ thenâ,â here Josey paused and struck his staff violently into the earth,ââanâ then thereâs a noise as of a mighty wind rushinâ, anâ the angels all falls to trumpetinâ anâ cries; âAlleluia! Lift up your âeads ye everlasting gates that the King of Glory may come inâ!â
The various village loafers sauntering beside their venerable prophet, listened to this outburst with respectful awe.
âHeâs meanderinâ,â said Bainton in a low tone to the portly proprietor of the âMother Huffâ; âItâs wonderful wot poltry there is in âim, when âe gives way to it!â
âPoltryâ was the general term among the frequenters of the âMother Huffâ for âpoetry.â
âAy, ay!â replied Buggins, somewhat condescendingly, as one who bore in mind that he was addressing a creditor; âI donât understanâ poltry myself, but Josey speaks fine when he has a mind toâthereâs no doubt of that. Look âee âere, now; thereâs Ipsie Frost runninâ to âim!â
And they all turned their eyes on a flying bundle of curls, rosy cheeks, fat legs and clean pinafore, that came speeding towards old Josey, with another young feminine creature scampering after it crying:
âIpsie! Hip-po-ly-ta! Baby! Come back to your dinner!â
But Hippolyta was a person evidently accustomed to have her own way, and she ran straight up to Josey Letherbarrow as though he were the one choice hero picked out of a world.
âZozey!â she screamed, stretching out a pair of short, mottled arms; âMy own bootiful Zozey-posey! Tum and pick fowers!â
With an ecstatic shriek at nothing in particular, she caught the edge of the old manâs smock.
âMy Zozey,â she said purringly, ââOo vezy old, but I loves âoo!â
A smile and then a laugh went the round of the group. They were all accustomed to Ipsieâs enthusiasms. Josey Letherbarrow paused a minute to allow his small admirer to take firm hold of his garments, and patted her little head with his brown wrinkled hand.
âWeâse goinâ sweetheartinâ, ainât we, Ipsie,â he said gently, the beautiful smile that made his venerable face so fine and lovable, again lighting up his sunken eyes. âCome along, little lass! Come along!â
âShe ainât finished her dinner!â breathlessly proclaimed a long- legged girl of about ten, who had run after the child, being one of her numerous sisters; âMother said she was to come back straight.â
âI sâant go back!â declared Ipsie defiantly; âZozey and meâs sweetheartinâ!â
Old Josey chuckled.
âThatâs so! So we be!â he said tranquilly; âCome along little lass! Come along!â And to the panting sister of the tiny autocrat, he said: âYou go on, my gel! Iâll bring the baby, âoldinâ on jest as she is now to my smock. She wonât stir moreân a fond bird wotâs stickinâ its little claws into ye for shelter. Iâll bring âer along âome, anâ sheâll finish âer dinner fine, like a real good baby! Come along, little lass! Come along!â
So murmuring, the old man and young child went on together, and the group of villagers dispersed. Roger Buggins, however, paused a moment before turning up the lane which led to the âMother Huff.â
âYou tell Passon,â he said addressing Bainton, âYou tell him as âow the Five Sisters be chalked for layinâ low on Wednesday marninâ!â
âNever fear!â responded Bainton; âIâll tell âim. If âtwornât Sunday, Iâd tell âim now, but itâs onny fair he should âave a bit oâ peace on the seventh day like the rest of us. Heâll be fair mazed like when he knows it,âay! and I shouldnât wonder if he gave Oliver Leach a bit of âis mind. For all that heâs so quiet, thereâs a real devil
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