The Vicar's People Part 77

"I'll bring you some tin and copper, sir," cried Amos Pengelly, who had been staring about, cap in hand, and wis.h.i.+ng he might get up in that little stone pulpit and preach.

"And I will send you the first winnings from Wheal Carnac, Mr Lee,"

said Geoffrey, quietly; and as he spoke he saw that Rhoda Penwynn, who had been grouping ferns by the communion rails, and hearing all, was present, and had heard his words, but she turned away.

"Will you?" cried the vicar, eagerly. "I thank you both, and I pray, Geoffrey Trethick, that your venture may prosper yet."

"Thank you," said Geoffrey, quietly, and he looked smilingly in the young vicar's face till his scrutiny seemed to evoke a womanly blush.

In the mean time the fishermen, hanging close together in a group, stood cap in hand, staring round at the decorations of the church, and, lastly, at the wondrous tints upon the fish, that seemed to be intensified and made dazzling as the sun streamed through a stained gla.s.s window and fell upon the glistening heaps. One pointed to this heap of fruits, another to that, but no one spoke, and Tom Jennen furtively removed his tobacco quid, and stuffed the dirty-brown, wet morsel into the secrecy of his trousers pocket, giving his hand a polish after upon the top of one of his high fisher-boots.

"I'll ask them all to come to church to-morrow," whispered the vicar eagerly to Geoffrey, as Rhoda now came up, and a chilly greeting pa.s.sed between her and the miner.

"No," he said quickly; "don't undo your work. You have moved them more than you imagine. Let well alone."

A slight frown crossed Rhoda's brow--forced there to keep herself from marking her approval of his words; and just then a diversion occurred, for Tom Jennen gave a pull at the crisp hair upon his forehead, muttered something about not hindering the stowage, and went off on tip-toe, his mates saluting the vicar in turn, and going gently out. Miss Pavey smiled as she closed the door behind them, and bowed in answer to their "Good-day, ma'am."

Not a word was spoken as they made their way in a cl.u.s.ter down to the rails by the steep causeway leading to the boats, where they all grouped together, and stared from one to the other, waiting for some one to speak.

That some one proved to be Tom Jennen, who, after hunting out his quid from where it lay, in company with some half-pence, a stray b.u.t.ton, and a lucky sixpence that acted as a charm against the evil eye, picked off some pieces of flue, tucked the quid in his cheek, and said gruffly,--

"It's a gashly old job, lads, and we've been sold."

"Ay, we have that," was chorused; and the men nodded and shook their heads.

"I wouldn't ha' done it if I'd knowed he was such a good sort," growled Tom, rather excitedly, "for he is a good sort, arn't he?"

"Ay, lad, that he is," was the ready answer.

"And what I say is this," cried Tom. "I won the bet fair and square, and let him as says I didn't, say so right out like a man."

"Ay, lad, you won it fair enough," was the reply.

"Well then," said Tom Jennen, "let's go and drink parson's health in that there ale;" and he gave his lips, which were very dry with excitement, a hearty smack.

"Ay, lad," was chorused, "we will."

They did; and Amos Pengelly thought it was no harm to join.

CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN.

A MEETING.

"How's Madge?" said Geoffrey one morning, as he encountered Bess Prawle coming out of the bedroom with the baby in her arms.

"Very poorly," said Bess sadly. "She's wearing away, I think."

"Had I better get Dr Rumsey to call?"

"No," said Bess quietly; "no doctor will do her any good. Poor mother's very ill too this morning. I hardly know what to do first."

"Well, it is precious hard on you, Bessie," said Geoffrey. "We make a regular slave of you amongst us. Why not have a woman to come in and help? Money isn't flush: but I can pay her."

"Oh, no, Mr Trethick, I can manage," cried Bess. "No woman would come here to help."

Geoffrey frowned.

"We're such a bad lot, eh?"

"They don't like me," said Bess, smiling; "and father would not care to have a strange woman here."

"And so you get worked to death," said Geoffrey. "I don't like it, Bess, my la.s.sie," he continued, while the girl flushed slightly with pleasure, as she noted the interest he took in her. "Something must be done, or I shall be obliged to take Madge away and get her lodgings elsewhere."

"You'll--you'll take Miss Mullion away?" cried Bess excitedly, as she laid her hand upon his arm. "No, no: don't do that, Mr Trethick."

"Why not? Would you rather she stayed here?"

"Yes," said Bess softly, "I would rather she stayed here. I'll do the best I can for her."

"G.o.d bless you, Bessie!" cried Geoffrey warmly. "You're a good, true-hearted la.s.s, and I shall never forget your kindness. Well, I must see if some help can't be managed for you."

Bess flushed a little more deeply, for his words and interest were very sweet to her. Then, looking up cheerfully, she said that it was only a matter of a day or two.

"Father is quite taking to baby too," she said. "He nursed it for over an hour last night."

"Did he?" cried Geoffrey, laughing. "I wish I had been here. I say, Bessie, does tobacco-smoke make it sneeze?"

"No: not much," said Bessie wonderingly.

"Then look here," cried Geoffrey, "I'm not going to let the old man beat me. I don't see why I shouldn't be able to nurse as well as he. Give us hold. I'm going out to loaf on the cliff, and look at the sea, and smoke a pipe and think, and I'll take the baby."

"Mr Trethick!" cried Bess.

"I mean it," he said, laughing. "Here, come on, young one. Which way up do you hold it, Bessie?"

"Oh, Mr Trethick," cried Bessie. "Don't--please don't take it."

"Shall!" said Geoffrey; and to Bessie's amus.e.m.e.nt and annoyance, for a something in the act seemed to give her pain, he laughingly took the baby and held it in his arms.

"But you won't take it out, Mr Trethick," protested Bess.

"Indeed, but I shall," he said. "I always say what I mean."

"But you can't, sir. It must be dressed, and have on its hood."

"Bother!" cried Geoffrey; "it has got on too much already, and the sea-breeze will do it good. Come along, young top-heavy," he continued, laughing. "I shall be in the corner where I smoke my pipe, Bessie.

Come and fetch the little soft dab when you've done."