communication,—”I lent him twenty pounds the day before yesterday; I did indeed. You won’t mention it again, of course. I tell you, because, as you are seeing a good deal of him just now, I think it right that you should know on what sort of a footing he stands.” It’s all fair, they say, in love and war, and this small breach of confidence was, we must presume, a love stratagem on the part of Mr Cheesacre. He was at this time smitten with the charms both of the widow and of the niece, and he constantly found that the captain was interfering with him on whichever side he turned himself. On the present occasion he had desired to take the widow for his share, and was, upon the whole, inclined to think that the widow was the more worthy of his attentions. He had made certain little inquiries within the last day or two, the answers to which had been satisfactory. These he had by no means communicated to his friend, to whom, indeed, he had expressed an opinion that Mrs Greenow was after all only a flash in the pan. “She does very well pour passer le temps,” the captain had answered. Mr Cheesacre had not quite understood the exact gist of the captain’s meaning, but had felt certain that his friend was playing him false.
“I don’t want it to be mentioned again, Miss Vavasor,” he continued.
“Such things should not be mentioned at all,” Kate replied, having been angered at the insinuation that the nature of Captain Bellfield’s footing could be a matter of any moment to her.
“No, they shouldn’t; and therefore I know that I’m quite safe with you, Miss Vavasor. He’s a very pleasant fellow, very; and has seen the world,—uncommon; but he’s better for eating and drinking with than he is for buying and selling with, as we say in Norfolk. Do you like Norfolk, Miss Vavasor?”
“I never was in it before, and now I’ve only seen Yarmouth.”
“A nice place, Yarmouth, very; but you should come up and see our lands. I suppose you don’t know that we feed one-third of England during the winter months.”
“Dear me!”
“We do, though; nobody knows what a county Norfolk is. Taking it altogether, including the game you know, and Lord Nelson, and its watering-places and the rest of it, I don’t think there’s a county in England to beat it. Fancy feeding one-third of all England and Wales!”
“With bread and cheese, do you mean, and those sort of things?”
“Beef!” said Mr Cheesacre, and in his patriotic energy he repeated the word aloud. “Beef! Yes indeed; but if you were to tell them that in London they wouldn’t believe you. Ah! you should certainly come down and see our lands. The 7.45 a.m. train would take you through Norwich to my door, as one may say, and you would be back by the 6.22 p.m.” In this way he brought himself back again into good-humour, feeling, that in the absence of the widow, he could not do better than make progress with the niece.
In the mean time Mrs Greenow and the captain were getting on very comfortably in the other boat. “Take an oar, Captain,” one of the men had said to him as soon as he had placed the ladies. “Not to-day, Jack,” he had answered. “I’ll content myself with being bo’san this morning.” “The best thing as the bo’san does is to pipe all hands to grog,” said the man. “I won’t be behind in that either,” said the captain; and so they all went on swimmingly.
“What a fine generous fellow your friend, Mr Cheesacre, is!” said the widow.
“Yes, he is; he’s a capital fellow in his way. Some of these Norfolk farmers are no end of good fellows.”
“And I suppose he’s something more than a common farmer. He’s visited by the people about where he lives, isn’t he?”
“Oh, yes, in a sort of a way. The county people, you know, keep themselves very much to themselves.”
“That’s of course. But his house;—he has a good sort of place, hasn’t he?”
“Yes, yes;—a very good house;—a little too near to the horsepond for my taste. But when a man gets his money out of the till, he mustn’t be ashamed of the counter;—must he, Mrs Greenow?”
“But he could live like a gentleman if he let his own land, couldn’t he?”
“That depends upon how a gentleman wishes to live.” Here the privacy of their conversation was interrupted by an exclamation from a young lady to the effect that Charlie Fairstairs was becoming sick. This Charlie stoutly denied, and proved the truth of her assertion by her behaviour. Soon after this they completed their marine adventures, and prepared to land close to the spot at which the banquet was prepared.
Chapter IX.
The Rivals
There had been a pretence of fishing, but no fish had been caught. It was soon found that such an amusement would interfere with the ladies’ dresses, and the affairs had become too serious to allow of any trivial interruption. “I really think, Mr Cheesacre,” an anxious mother had said, “that you’d better give it up. The water off the nasty cord has got all over Maria’s dress, already.” Maria made a faint protest that it did not signify in the least; but the fishing was given up,—not without an inward feeling on the part of Mr Cheesacre that if Maria chose to come out with him in his boat, having been invited especially to fish, she ought to have put up with the natural results. “There are people who like to take everything and never like to give anything,” he said to Kate afterwards, as he was walking up with her to the picnic dinner. But he was unreasonable and unjust. The girls had graced his party with their best hats and freshest muslins, not that they might see him catch a mackerel, but that they might flirt and dance to the best advantage. “You can’t suppose that any girl will like to be drenched with sea-water when she has taken so much trouble with her starch,” said Kate. “Then she shouldn’t come fishing,” said Mr Cheesacre. “I hate such airs.”
But when they arrived at the old boat, Mrs Greenow shone forth preeminently as the mistress of the occasion, altogether overshadowing Mr Cheesacre by the extent of her authority. There was a little contest for supremacy between them, invisible to the eyes of the multitude; but Mr Cheesacre in such a matter had not a chance against Mrs Greenow. I am disposed to think that she would have reigned even though she had not contributed to the eatables; but with that point in her favour, she was able to make herself supreme. Jeannette, too, was her servant, which was a great thing. Mr Cheesacre soon gave way; and though he bustled about and was conspicuous, he bustled about in obedience to orders received, and became a head servant. Captain Bellfield also made himself useful, but he drove Mr Cheesacre into paroxysms of suppressed anger by giving directions, and by having those directions obeyed. A man to whom he had lent twenty pounds the day before yesterday, and who had not contributed so much as a bottle of champagne!
“We’re to dine at four, and now it’s half-past three,” said Mrs Greenow, addressing herself to the multitude.
“And to begin to dance at six,” said an eager young lady.
“Maria, hold your tongue,” said the young lady’s mother.
“Yes, we’ll dine at four,” said Mr Cheesacre. “And as for the music, I’ve ordered it to be here punctual at half-past five. We’re to have three horns, cymbals, triangle, and a drum.”
“How very nice; isn’t it, Mrs Greenow?” said Charlie Fairstairs.
“And
