The Parson O' Dumford Part 95

He looked sharply round, and his hand went to his mouth, while a roar of laughter rose up from the merry crowd, and hastened his steps into the porch.

Trappy Pape was the next to be joked, as he came up hugging the green baize bag containing his violoncello.

"Say, Trappy, hast thee fed thee be-ast?" said one.

"Hast giv' the poor owd fiddle its rozzum?" cried another.

"Trappy, lad," shouted another, "does ta sleep inside that owd thing?"

The violoncello player hurried into the church, and Joey South came into view, to the great delight of the crowd.

"Here comes owd Poll Pry," cried one.

"Look at his owd umbrella," cried another.

"Why don't ta put th' umbrella up?" cried another voice, "it's going to ree-an next week."

Here there was another roar of laughter.

"Look at his leather breeches."

"Say, Joey, wast ta sewed in 'em when they weer made?"

"Ay, lad, they weer made on him i' the year one, and niver been off since."

"Mind yon goon don't go off," cried one of the chief jokers, as the boy came by bearing Joey's ba.s.soon.

"Is she loaded, Joey?"

"Ay, lad, he rams her full wi' kitchen poker," cried another.

Joey South escaped into the porch, grinning angrily, for a fresh minstrel appeared in the shape of "Owd Billy Stocks" with his clarionet.

"Hey, lads, here's owd Billy. How's the clarinet, Billy?"

"Didst put a bit more waxey band round her, Billy?"

"Ay, lads, and she's got a new reed."

"Don't split parson's ears, Billy."

"Hey, here's Tommy Johnson and Johnny Buffam. Tak' care, lads."

"Where's the bra.s.s?" shouted somebody.

"Hey," cried another, "stop 'em--big goons aint allowed i' the pooblic street."

The two musicians hugged the French horn and ophecleide to their sides, and tried to smile.

"Don't 'e blow paarson's brains out wi' that thing, Johnny Buffam."

"Dost a make the dead rise wi' it, Tommy, lad?" cried another.

"Say, Tommy," said another, "keep thee fist tight i' the bell, or thee'll do some un a mischief."

The appearance of Robinson, the landlord, and his wife, in gorgeous array, saved the bra.s.s instrument players from further banter, for the landlord had to be cheered. Then came churchwarden Bult.i.tude, with, close behind, Jessie and John Maine, and this party had to be cheered.

"Say, Chutchwarden, why don't a give parson a job for them two?" shouted some one; and, with scarlet cheeks, poor Jessie hurried into the church, where her eyes met John Maine's with no disfavour.

"Wheer's Tom Podmore? Why don't he bring his la.s.s?" shouted a workman.

But neither Daisy, Tom, nor Banks put in an appearance; and the crowd were on the look-out for some one else to banter, when the vicar appeared, to be received with deafening cheers, the men pressing forward to shake hands as he went slowly up the path.

"Say, mun, parson looks straange and w.a.n.kle," said one.

"Ay, but he is pasty-faced; he's been wucking too hard."

"Wucking!" said another; "why, he's nowt to do."

"Nowt to do, lad! why, he does as much i' one week as thou dost i' a month."

"Say," said another, "I'm getting strange and hungry."

"Theer'll he plenty to yeat by and by," said another. "Hey, here's owd Ransome and Tomson, the man as neither liked gristle nor swarth, but was very fond o' pig's feet."

"It warn't he, but the servant gell as they had. Say, owd Ransome, hast got a new gell yet?"

"What weer it about t'owd one?" said another.

"Why, they 'most pined her to dead."

"Hey, I thought they lived well theer."

"She towd my missus that she should leave, for she had beef and mutton and pigeon-pie till she wus sick to dead on 'em."

"Poor la.s.s!" said another. "That weer her as see owd Ransome's wife makking the pie."

"Hey, and what weer that?"

"Ah, she says, 'Sugarmum and b.u.t.termum, it'll be a straange dear pie, mum.'"

"Here's d.i.c.ky Glaire!" now was shouted, and plenty of cheers arose; but the men talked critically about his personal appearance as he got out of the carriage and went up the path with a supercilious smile upon his face.

"He's another pasty-faced un," said one of the chief speakers. "d.i.c.ky isn't half the man his father weer."

"Hearken to owd Mother Cakebread," said one of the men; "she says she'd sooner marry tawn's poomp."

"Here's owd Satan comin' to chutch," cried a voice, as Primgeon, the lawyer, a tall, smooth-faced, sallow man, got out of the next carriage, but they cheered him well, and the guests in the next two carriages, when the cry arose--