UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE
or
THE MELLSTOCK QUIRE
A RURAL PAINTING OF THE DUTCH SCHOOL
by Thomas Hardy

[...]

CHAPTER VII: THE TRANTER'S PARTY


During the afternoon unusual activity was seen to prevail about the
precincts of tranter Dewy's house.  The flagstone floor was swept of
dust, and a sprinkling of the finest yellow sand from the innermost
stratum of the adjoining sand-pit lightly scattered thereupon.  Then were
produced large knives and forks, which had been shrouded in darkness and
grease since the last occasion of the kind, and bearing upon their sides,
"Shear-steel, warranted," in such emphatic letters of assurance, that the
warranter's name was not required as further proof, and not given.  The
key was left in the tap of the cider-barrel, instead of being carried in
a pocket.  And finally the tranter had to stand up in the room and let
his wife wheel him round like a turnstile, to see if anything
discreditable was visible in his appearance.

"Stand still till I've been for the scissors," said Mrs. Dewy.

The tranter stood as still as a sentinel at the challenge.

The only repairs necessary were a trimming of one or two whiskers that
had extended beyond the general contour of the mass; a like trimming of a
slightly-frayed edge visible on his shirt-collar; and a final tug at a
grey hair--to all of which operations he submitted in resigned silence,
except the last, which produced a mild "Come, come, Ann," by way of
expostulation.

"Really, Reuben, 'tis quite a disgrace to see such a man," said Mrs.
Dewy, with the severity justifiable in a long-tried companion, giving him
another turn round, and picking several of Smiler's hairs from the
shoulder of his coat.  Reuben's thoughts seemed engaged elsewhere, and he
yawned.  "And the collar of your coat is a shame to behold--so plastered
with dirt, or dust, or grease, or something.  Why, wherever could you
have got it?"

"'Tis my warm nater in summer-time, I suppose.  I always did get in such
a heat when I bustle about."

"Ay, the Dewys always were such a coarse-skinned family.  There's your
brother Bob just as bad--as fat as a porpoise--wi' his low, mean, 'How'st
do, Ann?' whenever he meets me.  I'd 'How'st do' him indeed!  If the sun
only shines out a minute, there be you all streaming in the face--I never
see!"

"If I be hot week-days, I must be hot Sundays."

"If any of the girls should turn after their father 'twill be a bad look-
out for 'em, poor things!  None of my family were sich vulgar sweaters,
not one of 'em.  But, Lord-a-mercy, the Dewys!  I don't know how ever I
cam' into such a family!"

"Your woman's weakness when I asked ye to jine us.  That's how it was I
suppose."  But the tranter appeared to have heard some such words from
his wife before, and hence his answer had not the energy it might have
shown if the inquiry had possessed the charm of novelty.

"You never did look so well in a pair o' trousers as in them," she
continued in the same unimpassioned voice, so that the unfriendly
criticism of the Dewy family seemed to have been more normal than
spontaneous.  "Such a cheap pair as 'twas too.  As big as any man could
wish to have, and lined inside, and double-lined in the lower parts, and
an extra piece of stiffening at the bottom.  And 'tis a nice high cut
that comes up right under your armpits, and there's enough turned down
inside the seams to make half a pair more, besides a piece of cloth left
that will make an honest waistcoat--all by my contriving in buying the
stuff at a bargain, and having it made up under my eye.  It only shows
what may be done by taking a little trouble, and not going straight to
the rascally tailors."

The discourse was cut short by the sudden appearance of Charley on the
scene, with a face and hands of hideous blackness, and a nose like a
guttering candle.  Why, on that particularly cleanly afternoon, he should
have discovered that the chimney-crook and chain from which the hams were
suspended should have possessed more merits and general interest as
playthings than any other articles in the house, is a question for
nursing mothers to decide.  However, the humour seemed to lie in the
result being, as has been seen, that any given player with these articles
was in the long-run daubed with soot.  The last that was seen of Charley
by daylight after this piece of ingenuity was when in the act of
vanishing from his father's presence round the corner of the
house--looking back over his shoulder with an expression of great sin on
his face, like Cain as the Outcast in Bible pictures.

* * * * *

The guests had all assembled, and the tranter's party had reached that
degree of development which accords with ten o'clock P.M. in rural
assemblies.  At that hour the sound of a fiddle in process of tuning was
heard from the inner pantry.

"That's Dick," said the tranter.  "That lad's crazy for a jig."

"Dick!  Now I cannot--really, I cannot have any dancing at all till
Christmas-day is out," said old William emphatically.  "When the clock
ha' done striking twelve, dance as much as ye like."

"Well, I must say there's reason in that, William," said Mrs. Penny.  "If
you do have a party on Christmas-night, 'tis only fair and honourable to
the sky-folk to have it a sit-still party.  Jigging parties be all very
well on the Devil's holidays; but a jigging party looks suspicious now.  O
yes; stop till the clock strikes, young folk--so say I."

It happened that some warm mead accidentally got into Mr. Spinks's head
about this time.

"Dancing," he said, "is a most strengthening, livening, and courting
movement, 'specially with a little beverage added!  And dancing is good.
But why disturb what is ordained, Richard and Reuben, and the company
zhinerally?  Why, I ask, as far as that do go?"

"Then nothing till after twelve," said William.

Though Reuben and his wife ruled on social points, religious questions
were mostly disposed of by the old man, whose firmness on this head quite
counterbalanced a certain weakness in his handling of domestic matters.
The hopes of the younger members of the household were therefore
relegated to a distance of one hour and three-quarters--a result that
took visible shape in them by a remote and listless look about the
eyes--the singing of songs being permitted in the interim.

At five minutes to twelve the soft tuning was again heard in the back
quarters; and when at length the clock had whizzed forth the last stroke,
Dick appeared ready primed, and the instruments were boldly handled; old
William very readily taking the bass-viol from its accustomed nail, and
touching the strings as irreligiously as could be desired.

The country-dance called the 'Triumph, or Follow my Lover,' was the
figure with which they opened.  The tranter took for his partner Mrs.
Penny, and Mrs. Dewy was chosen by Mr. Penny, who made so much of his
limited height by a judicious carriage of the head, straightening of the
back, and important flashes of his spectacle-glasses, that he seemed
almost as tall as the tranter.  Mr. Shiner, age about thirty-five, farmer
and church-warden, a character principally composed of a crimson stare,
vigorous breath, and a watch-chain, with a mouth hanging on a dark smile
but never smiling, had come quite willingly to the party, and showed a
wondrous obliviousness of all his antics on the previous night.  But the
comely, slender, prettily-dressed prize Fancy Day fell to Dick's lot, in
spite of some private machinations of the farmer, for the reason that Mr.
Shiner, as a richer man, had shown too much assurance in asking the
favour, whilst Dick had been duly courteous.

We gain a good view of our heroine as she advances to her place in the
ladies' line.  She belonged to the taller division of middle height.
Flexibility was her first characteristic, by which she appeared to enjoy
the most easeful rest when she was in gliding motion.  Her dark
eyes--arched by brows of so keen, slender, and soft a curve, that they
resembled nothing so much as two slurs in music--showed primarily a
bright sparkle each.  This was softened by a frequent thoughtfulness, yet
not so frequent as to do away, for more than a few minutes at a time,
with a certain coquettishness; which in its turn was never so decided as
to banish honesty.  Her lips imitated her brows in their clearly-cut
outline and softness of bend; and her nose was well shaped--which is
saying a great deal, when it is remembered that there are a hundred
pretty mouths and eyes for one pretty nose.  Add to this, plentiful knots
of dark-brown hair, a gauzy dress of white, with blue facings; and the
slightest idea may be gained of the young maiden who showed, amidst the
rest of the dancing-ladies, like a flower among vegetables.  And so the
dance proceeded.  Mr. Shiner, according to the interesting rule laid
down, deserted his own partner, and made off down the middle with this
fair one of Dick's--the pair appearing from the top of the room like two
persons tripping down a lane to be married.  Dick trotted behind with
what was intended to be a look of composure, but which was, in fact, a
rather silly expression of feature--implying, with too much earnestness,
that such an elopement could not be tolerated.  Then they turned and came
back, when Dick grew more rigid around his mouth, and blushed with
ingenuous ardour as he joined hands with the rival and formed the arch
over his lady's head; which presumably gave the figure its name;
relinquishing her again at setting to partners, when Mr. Shiner's new
chain quivered in every link, and all the loose flesh upon the
tranter--who here came into action again--shook like jelly.  Mrs. Penny,
being always rather concerned for her personal safety when she danced
with the tranter, fixed her face to a chronic smile of timidity the whole
time it lasted--a peculiarity which filled her features with wrinkles,
and reduced her eyes to little straight lines like hyphens, as she jigged
up and down opposite him; repeating in her own person not only his proper
movements, but also the minor flourishes which the richness of the
tranter's imagination led him to introduce from time to time--an
imitation which had about it something of slavish obedience, not unmixed
with fear.

The ear-rings of the ladies now flung themselves wildly about, turning
violent summersaults, banging this way and that, and then swinging
quietly against the ears sustaining them.  Mrs. Crumpler--a heavy woman,
who, for some reason which nobody ever thought worth inquiry, danced in a
clean apron--moved so smoothly through the figure that her feet were
never seen; conveying to imaginative minds the idea that she rolled on
castors.

Minute after minute glided by, and the party reached the period when
ladies' back-hair begins to look forgotten and dissipated; when a
perceptible dampness makes itself apparent upon the faces even of
delicate girls--a ghastly dew having for some time rained from the
features of their masculine partners; when skirts begin to be torn out of
their gathers; when elderly people, who have stood up to please their
juniors, begin to feel sundry small tremblings in the region of the
knees, and to wish the interminable dance was at Jericho; when (at
country parties of the thorough sort) waistcoats begin to be unbuttoned,
and when the fiddlers' chairs have been wriggled, by the frantic bowing
of their occupiers, to a distance of about two feet from where they
originally stood.

Fancy was dancing with Mr. Shiner.  Dick knew that Fancy, by the law of
good manners, was bound to dance as pleasantly with one partner as with
another; yet he could not help suggesting to himself that she need not
have put quite so much spirit into her steps, nor smiled quite so
frequently whilst in the farmer's hands.

"I'm afraid you didn't cast off," said Dick mildly to Mr. Shiner, before
the latter man's watch-chain had done vibrating from a recent whirl.

Fancy made a motion of accepting the correction; but her partner took no
notice, and proceeded with the next movement, with an affectionate bend
towards her.

"That Shiner's too fond of her," the young man said to himself as he
watched them.  They came to the top again, Fancy smiling warmly towards
her partner, and went to their places.

"Mr. Shiner, you didn't cast off," said Dick, for want of something else
to demolish him with; casting off himself, and being put out at the
farmer's irregularity.

"Perhaps I sha'n't cast off for any man," said Mr. Shiner.

"I think you ought to, sir."

Dick's partner, a young lady of the name of Lizzy--called Lizz for
short--tried to mollify.

"I can't say that I myself have much feeling for casting off," she said.

"Nor I," said Mrs. Penny, following up the argument, "especially if a
friend and neighbour is set against it.  Not but that 'tis a terrible
tasty thing in good hands and well done; yes, indeed, so say I."

"All I meant was," said Dick, rather sorry that he had spoken
correctingly to a guest, "that 'tis in the dance; and a man has hardly
any right to hack and mangle what was ordained by the regular
dance-maker, who, I daresay, got his living by making 'em, and thought of
nothing else all his life."

"I don't like casting off: then very well; I cast off for no dance-maker
that ever lived."

Dick now appeared to be doing mental arithmetic, the act being really an
effort to present to himself, in an abstract form, how far an argument
with a formidable rival ought to be carried, when that rival was his
mother's guest.  The dead-lock was put an end to by the stamping arrival
up the middle of the tranter, who, despising minutiae on principle,
started a theme of his own.

"I assure you, neighbours," he said, "the heat of my frame no tongue can
tell!"  He looked around and endeavoured to give, by a forcible gaze of
self-sympathy, some faint idea of the truth.

Mrs. Dewy formed one of the next couple.

"Yes," she said, in an auxiliary tone, "Reuben always was such a hot
man."

Mrs. Penny implied the species of sympathy that such a class of
affliction required, by trying to smile and to look grieved at the same
time.

"If he only walk round the garden of a Sunday morning, his shirt-collar
is as limp as no starch at all," continued Mrs. Dewy, her countenance
lapsing parenthetically into a housewifely expression of concern at the
reminiscence.

"Come, come, you women-folk; 'tis hands across--come, come!" said the
tranter; and the conversation ceased for the present.



CHAPTER VIII: THEY DANCE MORE WILDLY


Dick had at length secured Fancy for that most delightful of
country-dances, opening with six-hands-round.

"Before we begin," said the tranter, "my proposal is, that 'twould be a
right and proper plan for every mortal man in the dance to pull off his
jacket, considering the heat."

"Such low notions as you have, Reuben!  Nothing but strip will go down
with you when you are a-dancing.  Such a hot man as he is!"

"Well, now, look here, my sonnies," he argued to his wife, whom he often
addressed in the plural masculine for economy of epithet merely; "I don't
see that.  You dance and get hot as fire; therefore you lighten your
clothes.  Isn't that nature and reason for gentle and simple?  If I strip
by myself and not necessary, 'tis rather pot-housey I own; but if we
stout chaps strip one and all, why, 'tis the native manners of the
country, which no man can gainsay?  Hey--what did you say, my sonnies?"

"Strip we will!" said the three other heavy men who were in the dance;
and their coats were accordingly taken off and hung in the passage,
whence the four sufferers from heat soon reappeared, marching in close
column, with flapping shirt-sleeves, and having, as common to them all, a
general glance of being now a match for any man or dancer in England or
Ireland.  Dick, fearing to lose ground in Fancy's good opinion, retained
his coat like the rest of the thinner men; and Mr. Shiner did the same
from superior knowledge.

And now a further phase of revelry had disclosed itself.  It was the time
of night when a guest may write his name in the dust upon the tables and
chairs, and a bluish mist pervades the atmosphere, becoming a distinct
halo round the candles; when people's nostrils, wrinkles, and crevices in
general, seem to be getting gradually plastered up; when the very
fiddlers as well as the dancers get red in the face, the dancers having
advanced further still towards incandescence, and entered the cadaverous
phase; the fiddlers no longer sit down, but kick back their chairs and
saw madly at the strings, with legs firmly spread and eyes closed,
regardless of the visible world.  Again and again did Dick share his
Love's hand with another man, and wheel round; then, more delightfully,
promenade in a circle with her all to himself, his arm holding her waist
more firmly each time, and his elbow getting further and further behind
her back, till the distance reached was rather noticeable; and, most
blissful, swinging to places shoulder to shoulder, her breath curling
round his neck like a summer zephyr that had strayed from its proper
date.  Threading the couples one by one they reached the bottom, when
there arose in Dick's mind a minor misery lest the tune should end before
they could work their way to the top again, and have anew the same
exciting run down through.  Dick's feelings on actually reaching the top
in spite of his doubts were supplemented by a mortal fear that the
fiddling might even stop at this supreme moment; which prompted him to
convey a stealthy whisper to the far-gone musicians, to the effect that
they were not to leave off till he and his partner had reached the bottom
of the dance once more, which remark was replied to by the nearest of
those convulsed and quivering men by a private nod to the anxious young
man between two semiquavers of the tune, and a simultaneous "All right,
ay, ay," without opening the eyes.  Fancy was now held so closely that
Dick and she were practically one person.  The room became to Dick like a
picture in a dream; all that he could remember of it afterwards being the
look of the fiddlers going to sleep, as humming-tops sleep, by increasing
their motion and hum, together with the figures of grandfather James and
old Simon Crumpler sitting by the chimney-corner, talking and nodding in
dumb-show, and beating the air to their emphatic sentences like people
near a threshing machine.

The dance ended.  "Piph-h-h-h!" said tranter Dewy, blowing out his breath
in the very finest stream of vapour that a man's lips could form.  "A
regular tightener, that one, sonnies!"  He wiped his forehead, and went
to the cider and ale mugs on the table.

"Well!" said Mrs. Penny, flopping into a chair, "my heart haven't been in
such a thumping state of uproar since I used to sit up on old Midsummer-
eves to see who my husband was going to be."

"And that's getting on for a good few years ago now, from what I've heard
you tell," said the tranter, without lifting his eyes from the cup he was
filling.  Being now engaged in the business of handing round
refreshments, he was warranted in keeping his coat off still, though the
other heavy men had resumed theirs.

"And a thing I never expected would come to pass, if you'll believe me,
came to pass then," continued Mrs. Penny.  "Ah, the first spirit ever I
see on a Midsummer-eve was a puzzle to me when he appeared, a hard
puzzle, so say I!"

"So I should have fancied," said Elias Spinks.

"Yes," said Mrs. Penny, throwing her glance into past times, and talking
on in a running tone of complacent abstraction, as if a listener were not
a necessity.  "Yes; never was I in such a taking as on that Midsummer-
eve!  I sat up, quite determined to see if John Wildway was going to
marry me or no.  I put the bread-and-cheese and beer quite ready, as the
witch's book ordered, and I opened the door, and I waited till the clock
struck twelve, my nerves all alive and so strained that I could feel
every one of 'em twitching like bell-wires.  Yes, sure! and when the
clock had struck, lo and behold, I could see through the door a little
small man in the lane wi' a shoemaker's apron on."

Here Mr. Penny stealthily enlarged himself half an inch.

"Now, John Wildway," Mrs. Penny continued, "who courted me at that time,
was a shoemaker, you see, but he was a very fair-sized man, and I
couldn't believe that any such a little small man had anything to do wi'
me, as anybody might.  But on he came, and crossed the threshold--not
John, but actually the same little small man in the shoemaker's apron--"

"You needn't be so mighty particular about little and small!" said her
husband.

"In he walks, and down he sits, and O my goodness me, didn't I flee
upstairs, body and soul hardly hanging together!  Well, to cut a long
story short, by-long and by-late, John Wildway and I had a miff and
parted; and lo and behold, the coming man came!  Penny asked me if I'd go
snacks with him, and afore I knew what I was about a'most, the thing was
done."

"I've fancied you never knew better in your life; but I mid be mistaken,"
said Mr. Penny in a murmur.

After Mrs. Penny had spoken, there being no new occupation for her eyes,
she still let them stay idling on the past scenes just related, which
were apparently visible to her in the centre of the room.  Mr. Penny's
remark received no reply.

During this discourse the tranter and his wife might have been observed
standing in an unobtrusive corner, in mysterious closeness to each other,
a just perceptible current of intelligence passing from each to each,
which had apparently no relation whatever to the conversation of their
guests, but much to their sustenance.  A conclusion of some kind having
at length been drawn, the palpable confederacy of man and wife was once
more obliterated, the tranter marching off into the pantry, humming a
tune that he couldn't quite recollect, and then breaking into the words
of a song of which he could remember about one line and a quarter.  Mrs.
Dewy spoke a few words about preparations for a bit of supper.

That elder portion of the company which loved eating and drinking put on
a look to signify that till this moment they had quite forgotten that it
was customary to expect suppers on these occasions; going even further
than this politeness of feature, and starting irrelevant subjects, the
exceeding flatness and forced tone of which rather betrayed their object.
The younger members said they were quite hungry, and that supper would be
delightful though it was so late.

Good luck attended Dick's love-passes during the meal.  He sat next
Fancy, and had the thrilling pleasure of using permanently a glass which
had been taken by Fancy in mistake; of letting the outer edge of the sole
of his boot touch the lower verge of her skirt; and to add to these
delights the cat, which had lain unobserved in her lap for several
minutes, crept across into his own, touching him with fur that had
touched her hand a moment before.  There were, besides, some little
pleasures in the shape of helping her to vegetable she didn't want, and
when it had nearly alighted on her plate taking it across for his own
use, on the plea of waste not, want not.  He also, from time to time,
sipped sweet sly glances at her profile; noticing the set of her head,
the curve of her throat, and other artistic properties of the lively
goddess, who the while kept up a rather free, not to say too free,
conversation with Mr. Shiner sitting opposite; which, after some uneasy
criticism, and much shifting of argument backwards and forwards in Dick's
mind, he decided not to consider of alarming significance.

"A new music greets our ears now," said Miss Fancy, alluding, with the
sharpness that her position as village sharpener demanded, to the
contrast between the rattle of knives and forks and the late notes of the
fiddlers.

"Ay; and I don't know but what 'tis sweeter in tone when you get above
forty," said the tranter; "except, in faith, as regards father there.
Never such a mortal man as he for tunes.  They do move his soul; don't
'em, father?"

The eldest Dewy smiled across from his distant chair an assent to
Reuben's remark.

"Spaking of being moved in soul," said Mr. Penny, "I shall never forget
the first time I heard the 'Dead March.'  'Twas at poor Corp'l Nineman's
funeral at Casterbridge.  It fairly made my hair creep and fidget about
like a vlock of sheep--ah, it did, souls!  And when they had done, and
the last trump had sounded, and the guns was fired over the dead hero's
grave, a' icy-cold drop o' moist sweat hung upon my forehead, and another
upon my jawbone.  Ah, 'tis a very solemn thing!"

"Well, as to father in the corner there," the tranter said, pointing to
old William, who was in the act of filling his mouth; "he'd starve to
death for music's sake now, as much as when he was a boy-chap of
fifteen."

"Truly, now," said Michael Mail, clearing the corner of his throat in the
manner of a man who meant to be convincing; "there's a friendly tie of
some sort between music and eating."  He lifted the cup to his mouth, and
drank himself gradually backwards from a perpendicular position to a
slanting one, during which time his looks performed a circuit from the
wall opposite him to the ceiling overhead.  Then clearing the other
corner of his throat: "Once I was a-setting in the little kitchen of the
Dree Mariners at Casterbridge, having a bit of dinner, and a brass band
struck up in the street.  Such a beautiful band as that were!  I was
setting eating fried liver and lights, I well can mind--ah, I was! and to
save my life, I couldn't help chawing to the tune.  Band played six-eight
time; six-eight chaws I, willynilly.  Band plays common; common time went
my teeth among the liver and lights as true as a hair.  Beautiful 'twere!
Ah, I shall never forget that there band!"

"That's as tuneful a thing as ever I heard of," said grandfather James,
with the absent gaze which accompanies profound criticism.

"I don't like Michael's tuneful stories then," said Mrs. Dewy.  "They are
quite coarse to a person o' decent taste."

Old Michael's mouth twitched here and there, as if he wanted to smile but
didn't know where to begin, which gradually settled to an expression that
it was not displeasing for a nice woman like the tranter's wife to
correct him.

"Well, now," said Reuben, with decisive earnestness, "that sort o' coarse
touch that's so upsetting to Ann's feelings is to my mind a
recommendation; for it do always prove a story to be true.  And for the
same reason, I like a story with a bad moral.  My sonnies, all true
stories have a coarse touch or a bad moral, depend upon't.  If the story-
tellers could ha' got decency and good morals from true stories, who'd
ha' troubled to invent parables?"  Saying this the tranter arose to fetch
a new stock of cider, ale, mead, and home-made wines.

Mrs. Dewy sighed, and appended a remark (ostensibly behind her husband's
back, though that the words should reach his ears distinctly was
understood by both): "Such a man as Dewy is!  Nobody do know the trouble
I have to keep that man barely respectable.  And did you ever hear
too--just now at supper-time--talking about 'taties' with Michael in such
a work-folk way.  Well, 'tis what I was never brought up to!  With our
family 'twas never less than 'taters,' and very often 'pertatoes'
outright; mother was so particular and nice with us girls there was no
family in the parish that kept them selves up more than we."

The hour of parting came.  Fancy could not remain for the night, because
she had engaged a woman to wait up for her.  She disappeared temporarily
from the flagging party of dancers, and then came downstairs wrapped up
and looking altogether a different person from whom she had been
hitherto, in fact (to Dick's sadness and disappointment), a woman
somewhat reserved and of a phlegmatic temperament--nothing left in her of
the romping girl that she had seemed but a short quarter-hour before, who
had not minded the weight of Dick's hand upon her waist, nor shirked the
purlieus of the mistletoe.

"What a difference!" thought the young man--hoary cynic pro tem.  "What a
miserable deceiving difference between the manners of a maid's life at
dancing times and at others!  Look at this lovely Fancy!  Through the
whole past evening touchable, squeezeable--even kissable!  For whole half-
hours I held her so chose to me that not a sheet of paper could have been
shipped between us; and I could feel her heart only just outside my own,
her life beating on so close to mine, that I was aware of every breath in
it.  A flit is made upstairs--a hat and a cloak put on--and I no more
dare to touch her than--"  Thought failed him, and he returned to
realities.

But this was an endurable misery in comparison with what followed.  Mr.
Shiner and his watch-chain, taking the intrusive advantage that ardent
bachelors who are going homeward along the same road as a pretty young
woman always do take of that circumstance, came forward to assure
Fancy--with a total disregard of Dick's emotions, and in tones which were
certainly not frigid--that he (Shiner) was not the man to go to bed
before seeing his Lady Fair safe within her own door--not he, nobody
should say he was that;--and that he would not leave her side an inch
till the thing was done--drown him if he would.  The proposal was
assented to by Miss Day, in Dick's foreboding judgment, with one
degree--or at any rate, an appreciable fraction of a degree--of warmth
beyond that required by a disinterested desire for protection from the
dangers of the night.

All was over; and Dick surveyed the chair she had last occupied, looking
now like a setting from which the gem has been torn.  There stood her
glass, and the romantic teaspoonful of elder wine at the bottom that she
couldn't drink by trying ever so hard, in obedience to the mighty
arguments of the tranter (his hand coming down upon her shoulder the
while, like a Nasmyth hammer); but the drinker was there no longer.  There
were the nine or ten pretty little crumbs she had left on her plate; but
the eater was no more seen.

There seemed a disagreeable closeness of relationship between himself and
the members of his family, now that they were left alone again face to
face.  His father seemed quite offensive for appearing to be in just as
high spirits as when the guests were there; and as for grandfather James
(who had not yet left), he was quite fiendish in being rather glad they
were gone.

"Really," said the tranter, in a tone of placid satisfaction, "I've had
so little time to attend to myself all the evenen, that I mean to enjoy a
quiet meal now!  A slice of this here ham--neither too fat nor too
lean--so; and then a drop of this vinegar and pickles--there, that's
it--and I shall be as fresh as a lark again!  And to tell the truth, my
sonny, my inside has been as dry as a lime-basket all night."

"I like a party very well once in a while," said Mrs. Dewy, leaving off
the adorned tones she had been bound to use throughout the evening, and
returning to the natural marriage voice; "but, Lord, 'tis such a sight of
heavy work next day!  What with the dirty plates, and knives and forks,
and dust and smother, and bits kicked off your furniture, and I don't
know what all, why a body could a'most wish there were no such things as
Christmases . . . Ah-h dear!" she yawned, till the clock in the corner
had ticked several beats.  She cast her eyes round upon the displaced,
dust-laden furniture, and sank down overpowered at the sight.

"Well, I be getting all right by degrees, thank the Lord for't!" said the
tranter cheerfully through a mangled mass of ham and bread, without
lifting his eyes from his plate, and chopping away with his knife and
fork as if he were felling trees.  "Ann, you may as well go on to bed at
once, and not bide there making such sleepy faces; you look as
long-favoured as a fiddle, upon my life, Ann.  There, you must be wearied
out, 'tis true.  I'll do the doors and draw up the clock; and you go on,
or you'll be as white as a sheet to-morrow."

"Ay; I don't know whether I shan't or no."  The matron passed her hand
across her eyes to brush away the film of sleep till she got upstairs.

Dick wondered how it was that when people were married they could be so
blind to romance; and was quite certain that if he ever took to wife that
dear impossible Fancy, he and she would never be so dreadfully practical
and undemonstrative of the Passion as his father and mother were.  The
most extraordinary thing was, that all the fathers and mothers he knew
were just as undemonstrative as his own.

[...]