North, South and over the Sea Part 4

The fisherman retired somewhat disconsolately, and husband and wife, still palpitating, walked slowly away together; while "Golden Sally,"

once more standing aloft on her sandy pinnacle, wrung the moisture out of her yellow hair.

"TH' OWDEST MEMBER"

Doctor Craddock rode slowly along the gra.s.sy track which led from Thornleigh to Little Upton, and as he rode he smiled to himself.

Though he had been settled for more than a dozen years in this quiet corner of Lancas.h.i.+re, his Southern mind had not yet become accustomed to the idiosyncrasies of his North Country patients. He had just been to see old Robert Wainwright, who was suffering from an acute attack of gout in his right foot, and who was, in consequence, unapproachable in every sense of the word, answering the Doctor's questions only by an unintelligible growl or an impatient jerk of the head. Moreover, on being informed that he must not expect to set foot to the ground for several days more, he had emitted a kind of incredulous roar, and had announced his opinion that his medical adviser was a gradely fool.

Poor Mrs. Wainwright had subsequently apologised for her lord's shortness of temper, explaining in deprecating tones that he was apt to be took that way sometimes; adding that he had been moiderin ever sin' mornin' about Club Day.

"He reckons he's th' owdest member, ye know. Him an' Martin Tyrer, of Little Upton, is mich of an age, an' they'n walked same number of times--they're a bit jealous one o' th' t'other an' our Gaffer reckons if he bides awhoam, owd Martin 'ull be castin' up at him, an' sayin'

he's beat him."

"There'll be no Club meeting for Tyrer, either, to-morrow," Doctor Craddock said; "he's laid up with a bad attack of bronchitis."

"Eh, is he?" exclaimed Mrs. Wainwright, with such visible satisfaction that the Doctor smiled now as he recalled it; she had barely patience to escort him to the door, and before he mounted his horse, he heard her joyfully informing her Gaffer that owd Martin Tyrer had getten th'

't.i.tus, and she hoped that now he'd be satisfied and give ower frettin' hissel'.

"I shall have an equally warm reception here, I suppose," said the Doctor to himself, as he dismounted before Tyrer's door, "but, whatever happens, the old man must not think of going out to-morrow.

It would be serious if he caught fresh cold."

Martin Tyrer was sitting, almost upright, in his bed, supported by many pillows, for when he lay down, as his wife explained to the Doctor, he fair choked. He was an immensely tall and stout man, with a large red face, and a stolid lack-l.u.s.tre eye, which he brought solemnly to bear upon the Doctor as he entered the room.

"Well," said Craddock, "how are you to-day, Tyrer? Better, I hope."

Tyrer rolled his eyes in the direction of his wife, apparently as an intimation that she was to answer for him.

"Noan so well," said Mrs. Tyrer lugubriously, proceeding thereupon to give accurate, not to say harrowing, particulars of her master's symptoms; Tyrer, meanwhile, suffering his glance to wander from one to the other, and occasionally nodding or shaking his head. It was not until she paused from want of breath that he put in his word.

"I mun get up to-morrow," he remarked, apparently addressing no one in particular.

"If you do you'll make an end of yourself, my friend," returned the Doctor decidedly. "You stay where you are, and go on with your gruel and poultices--by-the-bye you needn't make those poultices quite so thick, Mrs. Tyrer--and I'll come and see you on Wednesday. You mustn't think of getting up. If you go out in this east wind, it will be the death of you. Really you people are mad about your Club Day--you should have seen old Robert Wainwright, when I told him just now that it would be quite impossible for him to go out."

"He's not goin' to walk!" cried husband and wife together, their faces lighting up much as Mrs. Wainwright's had done.

"He'd be very much astonished if he were to try," said Doctor Craddock; "he can't so much as put his foot to the ground."

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE OWDEST MEMBER "I mun get up to-morrow," he remarked]

"Coom," said Mrs. Tyrer, looking encouragingly at her spouse, "that's one thing as should mak' thee feel a bit 'appier. He were takkin' on terrible, ye know," she explained, "thinkin' Robert 'ud be crowin'

ower him at not bein' able to walk. He's allus agate o' saucin our mester is yon--he reckons he's th' owdest member o' th' Club, an' my 'usband he's turned seventy, an' he's walked fifty-two times. Ah, fifty-two times it were last Club Day, weren't it, Martin?"

"It were," agreed Martin, endorsing the statement with a nod; "but Robert, he says he's walked fifty-two times, too, an' he's seventy-one last Lady-day, an' so he reckons _he's_ th' owdest member, an' he's ever an' allus throwin' it i' my face."

"Eh, sich a to-do as he mak's about it you'd never believe," put in the wife, "he'll never let our Gaffer tak' a bit o' credit to hissel'--eh, it's terrible how he goes on! I b'lieve if he were fair deein' he'd get up an' walk sooner nor let poor Martin ha' th'

satisfaction o' sayin' he'd walked once oftener nor him. An' th' folks has getten to laugh at 'em both, an' to set 'em on, one agin th'

t'other. At th' dinner yonder, at th' Thornleigh Arms, s...o...b..y 'll allus get up an' call for th' 'ealth o' th' owdest member, an' then th' two owd lads 'ull get agate o' bargin' one another, an' Upton folks 'ull be backin' up Martin, an' th' Thornleigh folks 'ull be backin' up Robert, an' they mak' sich a din, they say as n.o.bry can hear theirsel's speak."

The Doctor laughed loud and long. "Well, it must be a drawn battle this year," he said; "certainly Wainwright will not be able to go to the Club meeting unless he hops on one leg."

With a cheery nod he withdrew, chuckling all the way downstairs; Mrs.

Tyrer duly escorted him to the door, and then climbed slowly up again, every step creaking beneath her weight. When she entered the sick room she found her husband drumming on the sheets with his fingers, and staring in front of him with a somewhat peculiar expression.

"Well," she cried, letting her ponderous person sink into the old-fas.h.i.+oned elbow chair that stood by the bedside, "owd Robert, yon, 'ull ha' to keep quiet for once! He'll noan be castin' up at thee this year as how 'tis."

Martin rolled his head from side to side, but said nothing.

"Ye'll be able to start fresh next Club Day," resumed his spouse cheerily. "Happen th' gout 'ull mak' an end on poor owd Robert first, though."

Martin looked at her with a startled air. "Happen it will," he a.s.sented doubtfully; "ah, it 'ud ha' been a fine thing if I could ha'

stolen a march on th' owd lad this time! I never got the chance before, but theer he lays yon, fast by the leg! If I could ha' made s.h.i.+ft to walk this year he could never ha' cotched me up--eh, I'd ha'

had a gradely laugh at him."

"Well, well, ye'll happen ha' th' best on't another time," said Mrs.

Tyrer soothingly. "Happen he'll noan be able to walk no more next year nor this--happen he'll noan be here! Dunnot thou go frettin' thysel'

this road; n.o.bry knows what's goin' to come about i' this world."

Martin's eyes travelled slowly from the ceiling to her face with a puzzled, discontented gaze.

"If th' owd lad dees afore next year it 'ull spile everything--'twouldn't be no satisfaction to walk oftener nor him if he were dead."

"Well, dunnot thou go frettin' thysel' as how 'tis," repeated his missus with a vague attempt at consolation.

Meanwhile old Wainwright had somewhat calmed down since his wife had imparted to him the welcome tidings that his rival had unwillingly "paired" with him for the morrow's festivities. He ceased roaring at his sons and daughters and throwing his bandages at his wife's head; it must be stated that he never employed any more dangerous missile even in moments of supreme irritation. Robert Wainwright's bark was on all occasions worse than his bite, and though recently his bark had been very loud indeed, no one in the little household was in the least scared by it. This evening, however, "our Tom" and "our Bob," who had of late satisfied themselves with s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g their bullet heads and a small portion of their persons round the angle of the door, walked boldly in, and cheerfully inquired how feyther felt hissel'; while "our Annie" and "our Polly" actually helped their mother to "straighten" the bed, and ventured to draw the sheet lightly over feyther's afflicted toe. The Gaffer, moreover, consented to swallow a basin of gruel with just a dash of spirits in it to take away the sickliness of it. Doctor Craddock had forbidden all stimulants, but, as Mrs. Wainwright remarked, "a little taste like that, just to make the gruel slip down, couldn't coom amiss." It certainly did not seem to come amiss to Robert, who grew quite jovial as he sc.r.a.ped the basin, and commiserated "owd Martin Tyrer, yon," with genuine sympathy.

"Poor owd lad! To think of his being laid up just when Club Day cooms!

Eh, he will be takken to. Ye mind how he allus got agate o' boastin'

about bein' th' owdest member o' th' Club? an' he n.o.bbut seventy! Eh, I 'ad to get vexed wi' him soomtimes--he would have 't ye know, as 'twere him as were th' owdest, an' he'd get up, when th' folks had called for me--eh, I could scarce stand it!"

"He'll be soom mad," cried our Tom, chuckling.

"Nay, thou munnot mak' game o' th' poor owd chap's misfortun'," said his father with a tolerant air as he handed the empty basin to Annie.

"It's bad enough for him to be layin' theer wi'out havin' folks crowin' ower him."

Tom, much abashed, grinned sheepishly, and old Robert continued, after a pause, still evidently in high good-humour:--

"Well, wheer's thy cornet? Thou should be practisin' i'stead o'

standin' about findin' fault wi' thy neighbours."

Tom, who was a member of the Thornleigh band, had secretly resolved to retire presently to the cartshed that he might prepare for the labours of the morrow without being overheard. He was rejoiced, however, to find that he might pursue his musical avocations in the house without causing the old father chagrin or irritation.

"Mun I practise a bit i' th' kitchen?" he inquired joyfully.

Old Wainwright consented, and presently the somewhat husky tones of Tom's cornet resounded through the house.

The next morning dawned bright and sunny, though the unseasonable east wind still blew pitilessly keen. The Wainwright's house was only divided from the main road by a little patch of garden, and old Robert's bedroom window looked out upon the street. Beside this window he insisted on establis.h.i.+ng himself, being half carried thither by his two stalwart sons, whose stout necks he encircled with either arm, while he hopped with his sound leg across the floor; Mrs. Wainwright supported the injured limb in front and Annie and Polly brought up the rear carrying pillows and blankets. Thus, by the united exertions of the whole family, old Bob was safely deposited in his straight-backed arm-chair, a good deal redder in the face and shorter in the temper than before the transit, but otherwise none the worse. Polly pushed forward a chair under the limb which her mother was still embracing.