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Page 2
Before I could reply, the sound of approaching footsteps came upon our
ears. Then, they stopt, a few yards off; and a clear voice trolled out a
snatch of country song:--
"Owd shoon an' stockins,
An' slippers at's made o' red leather!
Come, Betty, wi' me,
Let's shap to agree,
An' hutch of a cowd neet together.
"Mash-tubs and barrels!
A mon connot olez be sober;
A mon connot sing
To a bonnier thing
Nor a pitcher o' stingin' October."
"Jenny, my lass," said the old woman, "see who it is. It's oather
'Skedlock' or 'Nathan o' Dangler's.'"
Jenny peeped through the window, an' said, "It's Skedlock. He's
lookin' at th' turmits i'th garden. Little Joseph's wi' him. They're
comin' in. Joseph's new clogs on."
Skedlock came shouldering slowly forward into the cottage,--a tall,
strong, bright-eyed man, of fifty. His long, massive features were
embrowned by habitual exposure to the weather, and he wore the
mud-stained fustian dress of a quarryman. He was followed by a healthy
lad, about twelve years of age,--a kind of pocket-copy of himself. They
were as like one another as a new shilling and an old crown-piece. The
lad's dress was of the same kind as his father's, and he seemed to have
studiously acquired the same cart-horse gait, as if his limbs were as
big and as stark as his father's.
"Well, Skedlock," said Nanny, "thae's getten Joseph witho, I see. Does
he go to schoo yet ?"
"Nay; he reckons to worch i'th delph wi' me, neaw."
"Nay, sure. Does he get ony wage?"
"Nawe," replied Skedlock; "he's drawn his wage wi' his teeth, so fur.
But he's larnin', yo' known--he's larnin'. Where's yo'r Jone? I want to
see him abeawt some plants."
"Well," said Nanny, "sit tho down a minute. Hasto no news? Thae'rt
seldom short of a crack o' some mak."
"Nay," said Skedlock, scratching his rusty pate, "aw don't know 'at
aw've aught fresh." But when he had looked thoughtfully into the fire
for a minute or so, his brown face lighted up with a smile, and drawing
a chair up, he said, "Howd, Nanny; han yo yerd what a do they had at th'
owd chapel, yesterday?"
"Nawe."
"Eh, dear!... Well, yo known, they'n had a deal o' bother about music
up at that chapel, this year or two back. Yo'n bin a singer yo'rsel,
Nanny, i' yo'r young days--never a better."
"Eh, Skedlock," said Nanny; "aw us't to think I could ha' done a bit,
forty year sin--an' I could, too--though I say it mysel. I remember
gooin' to a oratory once, at Bury. Deborah Travis wur theer, fro Shay.
Eh! when aw yerd her sing 'Let the bright seraphim,' aw gav in.
Isherwood wur theer; an' her at's Mrs Wood neaw; an' two or three fro
Yawshur road on. It wur th' grand'st sing 'at ever I wur at i' my
life.... Eh, I's never forget th' practice-neets 'at we use't to have at
owd Israel Grindrod's! Johnny Brello wur one on 'em. He's bin deead a
good while.... That's wheer I let of our Sam. He sang bass at that
time.... Poor Johnny! He's bin deead aboon five-an-forty year, neaw."
"Well, but, Nanny," said Skedlock, laying his hand on the old woman's
shoulder, "yo known what a hard job it is to keep th' bant i'th nick wi'
a rook o' musicianers. They cap'n the world for bein' diversome, an'
jealous, an' bad to plez. Well, as I wur sayin'--they'n had a deeal o'
trouble about music this year or two back, up at th' owd chapel. Th'
singers fell out wi' th' players. They mostly dun do. An' th' players
did everything they could to plague th' singers. They're so like. But
yo' may have a like aim, Nanny, what mak' o' harmony they'd get out o'
sich wark as that. An' then, when Joss o' Piper's geet his wage
raise't--five shillin' a year--Dick o' Liddy's said he'd ha' moor too,
or else he'd sing no moor at that shop. He're noan beawn to be snape't
wi' a tootlin' whipper-snapper like Joss,--a bit of a bow-legged whelp,
twenty year yunger nor his-sel. Then there wur a crack coom i' Billy
Tootle bassoon; an' Billy stuck to't that some o'th lot had done it for
spite. An' there were sich fratchin an' cabals among 'em as never wur
known. An' they natter't, and brawl't, an' back-bote; and played one
another o' maks o' ill-contrive't tricks. Well, yo' may guess, Nanny--
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