CHAPTER XXXIV
CAULIFLOWERS
"They cocks and hens," Mr. Swipes used to say in the earlier days ofhis empire--"bless you, my lord, they cocks and hens knows a good bit ofgardening as well as I do. They calls one another, and they comes to seeit, and they puts their heads to one side and talks about it, and theysay to one another, 'Must be something good there, or he wouldn't havemade it so bootiful'; and then up go their combs, and they tear awayinto it, like a passel of Scotchmen at a scratching-match. If yourlordship won't put a lock on the door, you will never taste a bit ofgood vegetable."
Admiral Darling was at length persuaded to allow Mr. Swipes theprivilege of locking himself in the kitchen-garden; and then, forthe purpose of getting at him, a bell was put in the gable of thetool-house, with a long handle hanging outside the door in the courtyardtowards the kitchen. Thus he was able to rest from his labours, withoutincurring unjust reproach; and gradually as he declined, with increasingdecision, to answer the bell when it rang, according to the highest lawsof nature it left off ringing altogether. So Mr. Swipes in the walledkitchen-garden sought peace and ensued it.
One quiet November afternoon, when the disappearance of Dan Tugwell hadbeen talked out and done with, a sad mishap befell this gardener, duringthe performance, or, to speak more correctly, the contemplation of hiswork. A yawn of such length and breadth and height and profundity tookpossession of him that the space it had so well occupied still retainedthe tender memory. In plainer words, he had ricked his jaw, not fromgeneral want of usage, but from the momentary excess.
"Sarves me right," he muttered, "for carrying on so, without nothinginside of 'un. Must go to doctor, quick step, and no mistake."
In this strait he set off for John Prater's (for it was a matter ofluck to get ale at the Hall, and in such emergency he must not trust tofortune), and passing hastily through the door, left it unlocked behindhim. Going down the hill he remembered this, and had a great mind to goback again, but the unanimous demand of his system for beer impelledhim downwards. He never could get up that hill again without hydraulicpressure.
All might have gone well, and all would have gone well, except for thegrievous mistake of Nature in furnishing women with eyes whose keennessis only exceeded by that of their tongues. The cook at the Hall, asuperior person--though lightly esteemed by Mrs. Cloam--had long beenambitious to have a voice in the selection of her raw material. Ifanything was good, who got the credit? Mr. Swipes, immediately. But ifeverything was bad, as more often happened, who received the blame? MaryKnuckledown. Her lawful name was "Knuckleup," but early misfortuneshad reduced her to such mildness that her name became converted--as sheexpressed it--in harmony with her nature. Facts having generally beenadverse to her, she found some comfort in warm affection for theirnatural enemies and ever-victorious rivals--words. Any words coming witha brave rush are able to scatter to the winds the strongest facts; butbig words--as all our great orators know--knock them at once on the headand cremate them. But the cook was a kind-hearted woman, and liked bothlittle and big words, without thinking of them.
She had put down her joint, a good aitch-bone, for roasting--than which,if well treated, are few better treats--to revolve in the distant saluteof the fire (until it should ripen for the close embrace, where thetints of gold and chestnut vie), when it came into her provident mindwith a flash that neither horse-radish nor cauliflower had yet beendelivered by Mr. Swipes. She must run out and pull the long handle inthe yard, and remind him gently of her needs, for she stood in some aweof his character, as a great annalist of little people's lives.
Leaving the small dog Dandolo with stern orders to keep the jacksteadily going, with a stick on the dresser to intimidate one eye, anda sop in the dripping-pan to encourage the other, Mrs. Knuckledown raninto the court-yard, just in time to see the last swing of the skirt ofthat noble gardener's coat, as he turned the wall corner on his marchtowards the tap. She longed to call him back, but remembered just intime how fearfully cross that had made him once before, and she wasyielding with a sigh to her usual bad luck, when an eager and triumphantcluck made her look about. The monarch and patriarch of cocks, amagnificent old Dorking, not idly endowed with five claws for thescratch, had discovered something great, and was calling all his wives,and even his sons, as many as yet crowed not against him, to share thisspecial luck of fortune, or kind mood of Providence. In a minute or twohe had levied an army, some half-hundred strong, and all spurring theland, to practise their liberal claws betimes for the gorgeous joy ofscattering it. Then the grand old cock, whose name was "Bill," madethem all fall in behind him, and strutting till he almost tumbled on hishead, led the march of destruction to the garden door.
But, alas, he had waited for his followers too long, eager as they werefor rapine. When he came to his portal of delight, there stood, stoutas Britannia herself, and sweeping a long knife for her trident, thevaliant cook, to protect her cauliflowers. "You be off, Bill," shecried. "I don't want to hurt you, because you have been a good bird inyour time, but now you be growing outrageous." Bill made a rush for it,but losing a slice of his top-heavy comb, retired.
"Now's my opportunity," said Mary to herself, "for to cut my own cabbagefor once in my life, and to see what that old beast does in here. Oh my!The old villain, and robber that he is! Bamboozlement is the languagefor it." Embezzlement she should have said, and to one who knew as shedid how badly the table of the master was supplied, the suspicion wasalmost unavoidable. For here she saw in plenteous show, and appetisingexcellence, a many many of the very things she had vainly craved fromMr. Swipes. And if it was so now in November, what must it have been twomonths ago? Why, poor Miss Faith--Mary Knuckledown's idol, because ofher kindness and sad disappointment--had asked a little while ago for abit of salsify, not for herself--she never thought of herself--but for aguest who was fond of it; also the Admiral himself had called out for agood dish of skirrets. But no; Mr. Swipes said the weather and the blackblight had destroyed them. Yet here they were; Mary could swear to themboth, with their necks above-ground, as if waiting for the washing!Cauliflowers also (as the cooks call broccoli of every kind), here theywere in abundance, ten long rows all across the middle square, verybeautiful to behold. Some were just curling in their crinkled coronets,to conceal the young heart that was forming, as Miss in her teens drawsher tresses around the first peep of her own palpitation; others wereshowing their broad candid bosoms, with bold sprigs of nature's greenlace crisping round; while others had their ripe breasts shielded fromthe air by the breakage of their own broad fringe upon them.
Mary knew that this was done by Mr. Swipes himself, because he hadbrought her some in that condition; but the unsuspicious master hadaccepted his assurance that "they was only fit for pigs as soon as thebreak-stalk blight come on 'em"; and then the next day he had boughtthe very same, perhaps at ninepence apiece, from Mr. Cheeseman's window,trimmed and shorn close, like the head of a monk. "I'll see every bit of'un, now that I be here." Mrs. Knuckledown spoke aloud, to keep up hercourage. "Too bad for that old beast to keep us locked out from the veryplace us ought to have for pommylarding, because he saith all the fruitwould go into our pockets. And what goes into his'en, I should like toknow? Suppose I lock him out, as he hath locked us out. He won't be backyet for half an hour, anyway. Wish I could write--what a list I wouldmake, if it was only of the things he denieth he hath got!"
Strong in her own honesty and loyalty to her master, the cook turned thekey in the lock, and left Swipes to ring himself into his own garden, ashe always called it. That is to say, if he should return, which was notvery likely, before she had time for a good look round. But she sawsuch a sight of things she had longed for, to redeem her repute in thevegetable way, as well as such herbs for dainty stuffing, of which sheknew more than cooks generally do, that her cap nearly came off her headwith amazement, and time flew by unheeded. Until she was startled andterrified sadly by the loud, angry clang of the bell in the gable. Notonly was Mr. Swipes come back, but he w
as in a furious rage outside,though his fury was chilled with some shivers of fear. At first, when hefound the door locked against him, he thought that the Admiral must havecome home unexpected, and failing to find him at work, had turned thekey against him, while himself inside. If so, his situation would be insad peril, and many acres of lies would be required to redeem it. Fortrusting in his master's long times of absence, and full times of publicduty when at home, Mr. Swipes had grown more private stock, as hecalled it, and denied the kitchen more, than he had ever done before,in special preparation for some public dinners about to be given at theDarling Arms, by military officers to naval, and in turn by the latterto the former; for those were hospitable days, when all true Britonsstuck their country's enemy with knife and fork, as well as sword.
But learning, as he soon did at the stables, that the Admiral was stillaway, and both the young ladies were gone for a ride with Miss Twemlow,the gardener came back in a rage, and rang the bell. "Oh, whatever shallI do?" the trembling Mary asked herself. "Best take the upper hand ifI can. He's a thief, and a rogue, and he ought to be frighted. Doeshe know I can't write? No, for certain he dothn't. One of his big liesabout me was a letter I wrote to poor Jonadab."
With her courage renewed by the sense of that wrong, she opened thedoor, and stood facing Mr. Swipes, with a piece of paper in her hand,which a woman's quick wit bade her fetch from her pocket.
"Halloa, madam!" the gardener exclaimed, with a sweep of his hat anda low salute, which he meant to be vastly satirical; "so your ladyshiphave come to take the air in my poor garden, instead of tending thespit. And what do your ladyship think of it, so please you? Sorry as Ihad any dung about, but hadn't no warning of this royal honour."
"Sir," said Mrs. Knuckledown, pretending to be frightened a great dealmore than she was--"oh, sir, forgive me! I am sure I meant no harm. Butthe fowls was running in, and I ran up to stop them."
"Oh, that was how your ladyship condescended; and to keep out the fowls,you locked out me! Allow me the royal and unapparelled honour of showingyour ladyship to her carriage; and if I ever catch her in here again,I'll pitch you down the court-yard pretty quick. Be off, you dirtybaggage, or I won't answer for it now!"
"Oh, you are too kind, Mr. Swipes; I am sure you are too gentle, toforgive me, like of that! And the little list I made of the flowersin your garden, I shall put it in a teapot till the Quality wantssomething."
Mr. Swipes gave a start, and his over-watered eyes could not meet thoseof Mary, which were mildly set upon them. "List!" he muttered--"littlelist! What do you please to mean, Miss?"
"Well, the 'dirty baggage' means nothing unparalleled, sir, but just thesame as anybody else might do. Some people calls it a Inventionary, andsome an Emmarandum, and some a Catalogue. It don't interfere with you,Mr. Swipes; only the next time as Miss Dolly asks, the same as she wasdoing the other day--"
"Oh, she was, was she? The little -----!" Mr. Swipes used a wordconcerning that young lady which would have insured his immediatedischarge, together with one from the Admiral's best toe. "And pray,what was her observations, ma'am?"
"It was Charles told me, for he was waiting at dinner. Seems that theturnip was not to her liking, though I picked out the very best of whatfew you sent in, so she looks up from her plate, and she says: 'Well, Icannot understand it! To me it is the greatest mistress in the world,'she says, 'that we never can get a bit of vegetable fit for eating.We've got,' she says, 'a kitchen-garden close upon two acres, and a manwho calls himself head gardener, by the name of Swipes'--my pardoningto you, Mr. Swipes, for the young lady's way of saying it--'and his twosons, and his nephew, and I dare say soon his grandsons. Well, and whatcomes of it?' says she. 'Why, that we never has a bit of any kindof vegetable, much less of fruit, fit to lay a fork to!' Charles wasa-pricking up his ears at this, because of his own grumbles, and themaster saw it, and he says, 'Hush, Dolly!' But she up and answersspiritly: 'No, I won't hush, papa, because it is too bad. Only youleave it to me,' she says, 'and if I don't keep the key from that oldthief--excoose me, Mr. Swipes, for her shocking language--'and find outwhat he locks up in there, my name's not Horatia Dorothy Darling.' Oh,don't let it dwell so on your mind, Mr. Swipes! You know what youngladies be. They says things random, and then goes away and neverthinks no more about it. Oh, don't be upset so--or I shall have to callCharles!"
Mr. Swipes took his hat off to ease his poor mind, which had lost itsway altogether in other people's wickedness. "May I never set eyes onthat young man no more!" he exclaimed, with more pathetic force thanreasoning power. "Either him or me quits this establishment to-morrow.Ah, I know well why he left his last place, and somebody else shall knowto-morrow!"
"What harm have poor Charles done?" the cook asked sharply; "itwasn't him that said it; it was Miss Dolly. Charley only told meconferentially."
"Oh, I know what 'conferentially' means, when anything once gets amongthe womenkind! But I know a thing or two about Miss Dolly, as will giveher enough to do at home, I'll warrant, without coming spying after meand my affairs. Don't you be surprised, cook, whatever you may hear, assoon as ever the Admiral returneth. He's a soft man enough in a numberof ways, but he won't put up with everything. The nasty little vixen, ifshe don't smart for this!"
"Oh, don't 'e, now don't 'e, Mr. Swipes, that's a dear!" cried thesoft-hearted Mrs. Knuckledown; "don't 'e tell on her, the poor youngthing. If her hath been carrying on a bit with some of them younghofficers, why, it's only natteral, and her such a young booty. Don't 'ebe Dick-tell-tale, with a name to it, or without. And perhaps her neversaid half the things that Charles hath contributed to her." The truthwas that poor Dolly had said scarcely one of them.
"Bain't no young hofficer," Mr. Swipes replied, contemptuously; "tentimes wuss than that, and madder for the Admiral. Give me that paper,Miss, and then, perhaps, I'll tell 'e. Be no good to you, and might beuseful to me."
Mary could not give up the paper, because it was a letter from one ofher adorers, which, with the aid of Jenny Shanks, she had interpreted."No, no," she said, with a coaxing look; "by-and-by, Mr. Swipes, whenyou have told me who it is, and when you have promised not to tell onpoor Miss Dolly. But nobody sha'n't see it, without your permission.We'll have another talk about that to-morrow. But, oh my! look at thetime you have kept me, with all the good things to make a hangel'smouth water! Bring me two cauliflowers in two seconds. My beef will wantbasting long ago; and if Dandy hathn't left his job, he'll be prettywell roasted hisself by now."
Mr. Swipes went muttering up the walk, and was forced to cut two of thefinest cauliflowers intended for Cheeseman's adornment to-morrow. Thisturned his heart very sour again, and he shook his head, growling inself-commune: "You see if I don't do it, my young lady. You speaks againme, behind my back, and I writes again you, before your face; though, incourse, I need not put my name to it."
Springhaven: A Tale of the Great War Page 34
