There, too, amid much laughter, they all disguised themselves, some blackening their faces with soot, others whitening them with chalk, and some putting on the women's cloaks, bonnets, or aprons.
Then they collected Uphill men.
"We are come for your good," said Jack Swing, or the man who passed for him, wearing a long Punch-like nose. "We are come to help you; and where's the mean coward that won't come along with us in his own cause? There will be no living for poor folks if those new-fangled machines be allowed to go on, and them Parliament folk vote out all that makes for the people. Down with them, I say! Up with Reform, and down with all the fools and cowards who won't stand up for themselves."
All this, garnished with foul words and abuse, and roared out from the top of the horse-block, was addressed to the crowd that began to gather.
Dan Hewlett, with a horrid white face, was going about persuading the men, and so were others. "Bless you, we don't want to do no harm to the ladies, nor the children. We only wants to do away with them toady machines, as they wants to do all the work instead of men's hands, as the Almighty meant, and is in Scripture."
This was the plea to the better disposed, like Tom Seddon, who held out, "You'll not hurt madam nor the little ones. She've been a kind lady, and the captain, he's a good master, I will say that; and I don't want to hurt 'em."
"Nobody wants to hurt them; only to do away with they machines."
"I tell you what," was George Truman's answer, "them machines are the captain's, none of yours nor mine, and I won't go for to damage 'em. No! I won't have my face blacked nor whited, I'm an honest man, and not ashamed to show it. So I be going to my work."
And off he went to his day's work at Farmer Goodenough's, and the others hissed him and hooted him, but did him no harm. Nobody made such a noise as Softy Sam, and together this frightened Jem Gibbs out of following him, though he much wished to do so. Will Mole, as soon as he heard any sounds, ran away headlong down towards the meadows, and hid himself in the long rushes. Cox, the constable, thought discretion the better part of valour; and long before the rabble rout appeared, set off to carry a pair of shoes home to Mrs Pearson at the Lone Farm.
Master Hewlett, the carpenter, looked in vain for John, his apprentice, and growled and grumbled that he did not appear; then, on perceiving the uproar, decided that he was gone after that "there father of his'n." He wouldn't have thought it of Jack. No; he wouldn't; but sure enough it was "bred in the bone of him!" Master Hewlett went on with his planing; and when the troop, now amounting to about thirty grown men, besides a huge rabble of boys and girls, came along, and Dan shouted to him to come and stand up for the rights of the people, and down with that there "tyrum Gobbleall" and his machine to grind down the poor, he answered-
"Machine ain't nothing to me. I minds my own business, and thou beest a fool, Dan, not to mind thine! And where's that lad of thine? A trapesing after mischief, just like all idle fellows?"
"He bain't a labourer, and has no feeling for them as is," said Dan. "We wants your axe, though, George."
"Not he! I dares you to touch him," said George Hewlett in his unmoved way, smoothing off a long curled shaving, which fell on the ground. "There, that's the worth of you all and your Jack Swing! Swing, ye will, Dan, if you don't take the better care."
Some one made a move as if to seize the axe, but George made one step, and lifted quietly the stout bit of timber he had been planing, and it was plain that a whole armoury of carpenter's tools was on his side the bench.
"Come along," said Dan, "he's a coward and mean-spirited cur. Us shan't do nothing with he."
So on they went, all the kindnesses and benefits from Greenhow forgotten, and nothing remembered at the moment but grievances, mostly past, but more looked forward to as possible!
The women did remember. Judith Grey was in an agony, praying as she lay for Mrs Carbonel and the children. Widow Mole knew nothing, but was weeding the paths at Greenhow; Betsy Seddon and Molly Barnes were crying piteously "at thought of madam and her little girl as might be fraught to death by them there rascals." But no one knew what to do! Some stayed at home, in fear for their husbands, but a good many followed in the wake of the men, to see what would happen, and to come in for a little excitement-whether it were fright, pity, or indignation.
"'Pon my word and honour," said Lizzy Morris, "that there will be summat to talk on."
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. GREAT MARY AND LITTLE MARY.
"Who'll plough their fields? Who'll do their drudgery for them? And
work like horses to give them the harvest?"-Southey.
Mrs Carbonel, having seen her two little ones laid down for their midday nap, was sitting down to write a note to her husband, while Sophia was gone to give her lesson at the school, when there came a tap to the drawing-room window, and looking up she saw Tirzah Todd's brown face and her finger making signs to her. She felt displeased, and rose up, saying, "Why, Tirzah, if you want me, you had better come to the back door!"
"Lady, you must come out this way. 'Tis Jack Swing a-coming, ma'am- yes, he is-with a whole lot of mischievous folks, to break the machine and burn the ricks, and what not. Hush, don't ye hear 'em a hollering atop of the hill? They be gathering at the `Fox and Hounds,' and I just couldn't abear that you and the dear little children should be scared like, and the captain away. So," as Mrs Carbonel's lips moved in thanks and alarm, "if you would come with me, lady, and take the children, and come out this way, through the garden, where you wouldn't meet none of 'em, I'll take you down the short way to Farmer Pearson's, or wherever you liked, where you wouldn't hear nothing till 'tis over."
"Oh, Tirzah! You are very good. A fright would be a most fearful shock, and might be quite fatal to my little Mary. But oh, my sister and the servants and the Pucklechurches, I can't leave them."
"My Hoggie was at home with the baby, and I sent her off to see Miss Sophy at the school, and tell her to come up to Pearson's."
"But the Pucklechurches?"
"Nobody will hurt them! Nobody means to hurt you," said Tirzah, "I knows that! My man wouldn't ha' gone with them, but so as they promised faithful not to lay a finger on you, so you give 'em the money and the guns; but men don't think of the dear little gal as is so nesh, so I thought I'd warn you to have her out of the way. Bless my heart, they'll be coming. That was nigher."
Mrs Carbonel's mind went through many thoughts in those few moments. She could not bear to desert her husband's property and people in this stress, and yet she knew that to expose her tender little girl to the terrors of a violent mob would be fatal. And she decided on accepting Tirzah's offer of safety and shelter. She ran upstairs, put on her bonnet, took her husband's most essential papers out of his desk and pocketed them, together with some sovereigns and bank-notes, then quietly went into the nursery, where she desired Rachel Mole to put on her bonnet, take up the baby, and follow her, and herself was putting on little Mary's small straw hat and cape, telling her that she was coming with mamma for a walk to see Mrs Pearson's old turkey cock, when Mrs Pucklechurch burst in with two or three maids behind her.
"Oh, ma'am, Jack Swing's coming and all the rabble rout. What ever shall we do?" was the gasping, screaming cry.
"Only be quiet. There's nothing for any one to fear. If they do harm, it is to things, not people. I only go away for the sake of this child! No, Mary dear, nobody will hurt you. You are going for a nice early walk with mamma and baby and Rachel. You,"-to the maids-"may follow if you will feel safer so, but I do not believe there is any real danger to you. Betty Pucklechurch, please tell your husband that I do beg him not to resist. It would be of no use, his master would not wish it, only if he will take care that the poor cattle and horses come to no harm."
"He have gone to drive 'em off already to Longacre," said Betty. "I tell'd he, he'd better stand by master's goods, but he be a man for his cows, he be."
"Quite right of him," said Mrs Carbonel. "Have you baby's bottle, Rachel? Now, Mary dear, here's your
piece of seed cake."
The shouts and singing sounded alarmingly as if approaching by this time, and little Mary listened and said, "Funny mens singing."
It was very loud as the fugitives gained the verandah, where Tirzah waited with an angry light in her black eyes. "Oh! won't I give it to Joe Todd," she cried, "for turning against the best friend Hoglah ever had-or me either."
Mary, carrying her little Mary, and trying to keep a smile that might reassure her, followed Tirzah across the orchard on the opposite side of the house. They had to scramble through a gap in the hedge; Tirzah went over first, breaking it down further, then the baby was put into her arms, and Rachel came next, receiving Mary from her mother, who was telling her how funny it was to get over poor papa's fence, all among the apple trees, and here was Don jumping after them. Don, the Clumber spaniel, wanted a bit of Mary's cake, and this and her mother's jump down from the hedge and over the ditch, happily distracted her attention, and made her laugh, while the three maids were screaming that here were the rascals, hundreds of them a-coming up the drive; they saw them over the apple trees when on the top of the hedge, and heard their horrid shouts. "Oh, the nasty villains, with black faces and all!"
Mrs Carbonel dreaded these cries almost as much as the mob itself for her delicate child, and went on talking to her and saying all the nursery rhymes that would come into her head, walking as fast as she could without making her pace felt, though the little maid-albeit small and thin for five years old-was a heavy weight to carry for some distance over a rough stubble field for unaccustomed arms. Tirzah had the baby, who happily was too young to be even disturbed in his noontide sleep, and Rachel Mole had tarried with the other maids, unable to resist her curiosity to see what was doing at the farm since they were out of reach.
The fugitives reached a stile which gave entrance to a rough pathway, through a copse, and it was only here, when her mother sat down on the trunk of a tree taking breath with a sense of safety, that little Mary began to cry and sob. "Oh, we are lost in the wood! Please, please, mamma, get out of it. Let us go home."
"No indeed, Mary, we aren't lost! See, here's the path. We are going to see Mrs Pearson's pussy cat and her turkey."
"I don't want to. Oh! the wolves will come and eat us up," and she clung round her mother in real terror.
"Wolves! No, indeed! There are no wolves in England, darling, here or anywhere."
"Rachel said the wolves would come if I went in here."
"Then Rachel was very silly. No, there are no wolves. No, Mary, only- see! the little rabbit. Come along, take hold of my hand, we will soon get out. Never mind; God is taking care of us. Come, we will say our hymn as we go on."
The mother said her verse, and Mary tried to follow, in a voice quivering with sobs. Those imaginary wolves were a far greater alarm and trouble to her than the real riot at her father's farm. She clung round her mother's gown, and there was no pacifying her but by taking her up in arms.
"Let me take her, ma'am," said Tirzah Todd, making over the sleeping Edmund to his mother. "Come, little lady, I'll carry you so nice."
"No, no! Go away, ugly woman," cried Mary ungratefully, flapping at her with her hands in terror at the brown face and big black eyes.
"Oh, naughty, naughty Mary," sighed the mother, "when Tirzah is so good, and wants to help you! Don't be a naughty child!"
But the word naughty provoked such a fit of crying that there was nothing for it but for Mrs Carbonel to pick the child up and struggle on as best she could, soothing her terror at the narrow paths and the unknown way, and the mysterious alarm of the woodlands, as well, perhaps, as the undefined sense of other people's dread and agitation. However, the crying was quiet now, and the sounds of tumult at the farm were stifled by the trees, so that after a time-which seemed terribly long-the party emerged into an open meadow, whence they could see the gate leading to the high road, and beyond that the roof of Mrs Pearson's house.
But something else was to be seen far up the road. There was the flash of the sun from helmets! The Yeomanry were coming!
"There's papa!" cried Mrs Carbonel. "Papa in his pretty silver dress. Run on, run on, Mary, and see him."
Mary was let down, still drawing long sobs as she half ran, half toddled on, allowing herself to be pulled by Tirzah Todd's free hand, while her mother sped on to the gate, just in time for the astonished greeting of one of the little troop.
"Mrs Carbonel! What?"
And the next moment her husband was off his horse and by her side with anxious inquiries.
"Yes, yes, dear Edmund! We are all safe. Good Tirzah came to warn us. Make haste! They are at the farm. We shall be at Mrs Pearson's. She," (pointing to Tirzah) "sent to fetch Sophy from school. She'll be there. Here are the children all safe."
"Papa, papa," cried little Mary, feeling his silver-laced collar, and stroking his face as he kissed her.
And from that time she was comforted though he had to leave her again at once. She had felt a father's arm.
"Tirzah Todd!" exclaimed Captain Carbonel, "I shall never forget what you have done for us. Never!"
Tirzah curtsied, but said, "You'll be good to my man, sir?"
It was but a moment's halt ere Captain Carbonel rode on to overtake the rest of the troop, who, on hearing that the outrage was really taking place, were riding on rapidly.
Mrs Carbonel had not far to go before reaching the hospitable farm, where Mrs Pearson came out to receive her with many a "Dear, dear!" and "Dear heart!" and entreaty that she and the dear children would make themselves at home.
But Sophy was not there, and had not been heard of, and Mrs Carbonel, in her anxiety, could not rest on the sofa in the parlour, after she had persuaded little Mary into eating her long-delayed dinner of some mutton hastily minced for her, and had seen her safely asleep and cuddling a kitten. Mrs Pearson was only too happy to have the baby to occupy her long-disused wicker cradle, and Tirzah had rushed off to the scene of action as soon as she had seen the lady safely housed.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. THE MACHINE.
"In bursts of outrage spread your judgment wide,
And to your wrath cry out, `Be thou our guide.'"
Wordsworth.
Sophy was endeavouring to make the children remember who Joseph was, and thinking them unusually stupid, idle, and talkative, when, without ceremony, the door was banged open, and in tramped Hoglah Todd, with the baby in her arms, her sun-bonnet on her neck, and her black hair sticking wildly out. "Please, ma'am," she began, "Jack Swing is up a-breaking the machine, and mother says you are to go to Farmer Pearson's to be safe out of the way!"
"Hoggie Todd," began Mrs Thorpe, "that's not the way to come into school," but she could not finish, for voices broke out above the regulation school hush: "Yes, yes, father said," and "Our Jem said," and it ended in "Jack Swing's a-coming to break up the machine." Only one or two said, "Mother said as how it was a shame, and they'd get into trouble."
"Your mother sent you?" said Sophy to Hoglah.
"Yes, ma'am. She's gone up herself to tell madam, and take she to Pearson's, and her said you'd better go there, back ways, or else stay here with governess till 'twas quieted down."
"Hark! They are holloaing."
Strange sounds were in fact to be heard, and the children, losing all sense of discipline, made a rush to snatch hats and bonnets, and poured out in a throng, tumbling over one another, Hoglah among the foremost. Mrs Thorpe, much terrified, began to clasp her hands and say, "Oh dear! oh dear, the wicked, ungrateful men, that they should do such things. Oh! Miss Sophy, you will stay here, won't you?"
"No, I must go and see after my sister and the children," said Sophy, already at the door.
"But they'll be at Mr Pearson's. The girl said so. Oh, stay, ma'am! Don't venture. Pray, pray-"
But Sophy had the door open, and with "I can't. Thank you, no, I can't."
There were the confused sounds of howling and singing on the top of the hill. Betsy Seddon, at her cot
tage door, called out, "Don't go up there, miss; it's no place for the likes of you!" but Sophy only answered, "My sister," and dashed on.
She could get into a field of Edmund's by scrambling over a difficult gate, and, impelled by the sight of some rough-looking men slouching along, she got over it-she hardly knew how-and, after crossing it, came upon all the cows, pigs, and horses, with Pucklechurch presiding over them. He, too, said, "Doan't ye go up there, Miss Sophy. Them mischievous chaps will be after them pigs, fools as they be, so I brought the poor dumb things out of the way of them, and you'd better be shut of it too, miss."
"But, my sister, Master Pucklechurch! I must see to her."
"She'll be safe enow, miss. They don't lift a hand to folks, as I've heard, but I'll do my duty by the beastises."
He certainly seemed more bent on his duty to the "beastises" than that to his wife or his master's wife; and yet, when Sophy proved deaf to all his persuasions, he muttered, "Wilful must to water, and Wilful must drink. But, ah! yon beastises be safe enow, poor dumb things, so I'll e'en go after the maid, to see as her runs into no harm. She be a fine, spirity maid whatsome'er."
So on he plodded, in the rear of Sophy, who, with eager foot, had crossed the sloping home-field, and gained the straw yard, all deserted now except by the fowls. The red game cock was scratching and crowing there, as if the rabble rout were not plainly to be seen straggling along the drive.
Still there was time for Sophy to fly to the house, where, at the door, she met Mrs Pucklechurch.
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