The New Mistress Part 51

"No, he couldn't if he'd moved; and those two cats--there, I can't call 'em anything else--who are always going about preaching charity and love to the poor people, and giving 'em 'Dairyman's Daughters' instead of beef or tea, have been setting every one again' the poor gal, and they're at the bottom of it all I know. They hate her like poison."

"Well, I don't know about as bad as poison," said little Miss Burge thoughtfully; "but they don't like her, and I don't think that Mrs Canninge likes her either."

"No, I'm sure she don't; but I don't care," said Mr William Forth Burge furiously. "I'm not beaten, and if that poor girl will stand by us, I'll stand by her, to the last s.h.i.+lling I've got."

"That's right, Bill!" cried little Miss Burge enthusiastically, "for I do like her ever so; and the good, patient way in which she puts up with the fine airs and silly ways of her ma makes me like her more and more.

I haven't got a very bad temper, have I, Bill?"

"I think you've got a regular downright good 'un, Betsey," said her brother, looking at her admiringly.

"Well, Bill, do you know if I was to go there much, Mrs Thorne would make me a regular spitfire. She gives me the hot creeps with her condescending, high-and-mighty ways. She's come down in the world.

Well, suppose she has. So's thousands more, but they don't--they don't--"

"Howl," said Mr William Forth Burge, "that's it; they don't howl. Lor a mussy me, what difference do it make? Do you know, Betsey, I believe I was just as happy when I first started business on my own account; and I'm sure I thought a deal more of my first new cart, with bra.s.s boxes and patent axles, painted chocklit--it was picked out with yallar--than I did of our new carriage, here, and pair. Ah! and my first mare, as I only give fifteen pun for, could get over the ground better than either of these for which I give two hundred because they was such a match."

"There, now, you're beginning to grumble again, Bill, and I won't have it. You've grown to be a rich man, all out of your own cleverness, and you ought to be very proud of of it; and if you're not, I am."

"But, you see, Betsey, I ain't so happy as I thought I should be."

"Then you ought to be, seeing how happy you can make other folks; and oh, Bill, by-the-way, them Potts's are in trouble."

"Well, that ain't nothing new. Potts always is in trouble. He ought to have been christened Beer Potts or Pewter Potts, though they don't know what a pewter pot is down in this part of the world."

"That's better, Bill; now you're beginning to joke," said little Miss Burge, smiling, "But you'll do something for the Potts's?"

"I'll never do nothing for anybody else again in the place," said Mr William Forth Burge; "a set of ungrateful beggars. What's the matter with Potts? Been tipsy again?"

"I'm afraid he has, Bill; but that isn't it. They've got the fever there; that big, saucy girl, Feelier, is down with it and the poor mother wants money badly."

"Why don't she work for it, then?"

"Oh, she do, Bill; she's the most hard-working woman in the place."

Mr William Forth Burge's hand went into his pocket, and he brought out five pounds, to place them in his sister's hand.

"I wouldn't give it her all at once, dear," he said; "but a pound at a time like. It makes it do more good."

Little Miss Burge had the tears in her eyes as she gave her brother a sounding smack on either cheek.

"Now, don't you pretend again, Bill, that you ain't happy here," she said, "for ain't it nice to be able to do a bit of good like this now and then?"

"Of course it is," he replied, "but they only jumps on you afterwards.

Here we're going to do this, and p'r'aps save that child's life; and as soon as she gets well the first thing she'll do will be to make faces at your back in the school, as I've seen her do on Sundays over and over again."

"Oh, I don't mind, Bill."

"But you're not going to the house where that gal's ill?"

"Oh no, Bill dear; I won't go down. Don't you be afraid about that.

And look here; you make a big fight of it, and beat 'em about Miss Thorne."

"I'm going to," he replied. "But I say, Betsey," he continued, half turning away his face.

"Yes, Bill."

"Should--should--"

Mr William Forth Burge's collar seemed to be very tight, for he thrust, one finger between it and his neck, and gave it a tug before continuing hoa.r.s.ely--

"I never keep anything from you, Betsey?"

"No, Bill, you don't. You always was a good brother."

"Should--should you mind it much, Betsey, if I was to--to--get married?"

Little Miss Burge stood gazing at him silently for some minutes, and then she said softly--

"No, Bill; I don't think I should. Not if it was some one nice, who would make you very happy."

"She is very nice, and she would make me very happy," he said slowly.

"But, Betsey--my--dear--do--you--think--she'd--have me?"

Mr William Forth Burge's words came very slowly indeed at last, and he rested his arms upon his knees and sat in a bent position, looking down at the carpet as if waiting to hear what was a sentence of great moment to his life.

"Bill dear, I know who you mean, of course," said the little woman at last, tearfully. "I don't know. She likes you, for she told me she did; but I shouldn't be your own true sister if I didn't say that p'r'aps it's only as a friend; and that ain't love, you know, Bill, is it?"

"No," he said softly; "no, Betsey; you're quite right, dear. But I'm going to try, and--and I'm only a common sort of a chap, dear--if she says no, I'm going to try and bear it like a man."

"That's my own dear--dear--O Bill, look; if there she isn't coming up to the house!"

And little Miss Burge ran off to hide her tears.

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE.

WILLIAM FORTH BURGE MAKES LOVE.

Mr William Forth Burge's heart gave a big throb, and his red face a.s.sumed a mottled aspect as he went out to the front to welcome Hazel Thorne, who shook hands warmly; and her pale face lit up with a pleasant smile as he drew her hand through his arm and led her into the handsome breakfast-room, his heart big with what he wished to say, while he asked himself how he was to say it, and shrank trembling from the task.

"Yes, my sister's quite well," he said, in answer to a question.

"She'll be here directly; and I hope the little girls are quite well.

When may they come and spend the day?"

"It is very kind of you, Mr Burge," said Hazel, giving him a grateful look; "but I think they had better not come."

"Oh! I say, don't talk like that," he cried. "My dear Miss Thorne--"

He could get no farther. He had made up his mind to declare his love, but his heart failed as he mentally told himself it would be madness to ask such a thing of one so different to himself.