rice and confetti, I'll be at it all Saturday evenin' clearin' up for Sunday.'
'Well, it's your job, ain't it? What you gets paid for? Weddin's is to be expected.'
'And when's yours to be expected?' asked Albert sharply. 'You havin' it here? White, and all that? I'll look forward to seein' you all dolled up in a mornin' suit and topper.'
Percy looked at him coldly. 'Ah! Very funny, Albert Piggott! I hope I knows how to behave at the right time.'
He pushed aside his glass and made for the door, slamming it behind him.
'You shouldn't have said that,' said Mr Jones, mopping down the counter. 'It's his own business, after all.'
Albert looked faintly embarrassed. 'Well, we all knows he's makin' a fool of himself if he takes up with that Cooke girl. Don't do any harm to twit him now and again.'
'There's such a thing as playing with fire,' the landlord told him, wringing out his cloth. 'How would you feel if some chap made nasty remarks about your Nelly?'
Albert stared stolidly at him across his empty glass. 'I'd join him,' he said.
6. Charles Henstock Does His Best
PERCY Hodge's courtship had been common gossip, in a somewhat desultory way, to all Thrush Green and Lulling. The death of his first wife some years earlier, followed by the departure of his second and their subsequent divorce, had left Percy lonely and on the lookout for a new wife.
At one time he had paid unwelcome attention to Winnie Bailey's maid, Jenny. He had been repulsed, and Jenny was one of those most relieved to hear that Percy's hopes of matrimony might come to fruition in the near future.
She and Mrs Bailey were discussing the matter as they washed up the breakfast things together, for Jenny lived in, in a comfortable first-floor flat in Doctor Bailey's old home. It was a happy arrangement. Winnie had found, to her shame, that she was nervous alone at night after her husband's death, despite the many friends around her. When Jenny's parents died, she was offered her present quarters, and the two women had settled together with the utmost satisfaction.
'I must say,' said Jenny, rinsing cups under the hot tap, 'that it'll be a relief to see Perce settled.'
'Nothing like the relief I felt when you turned him down,' replied Winnie. 'What should I have done without you?'
'There was never any chance of me taking on that fellow,' said Jenny briskly, 'and Emily Cooke's a fool if she does.'
'Well, she does have her little boy to consider,' replied Winnie tolerantly. 'I suppose she feels it is best for Nigel to have a father—or stepfather, I should say.'
'It won't be Nigel she'll be thinking about if she takes on Percy,' said Jenny. 'It's her own comforts that'll be on her mind.'
'Percy is certainly what my husband's people used to call "a warm man", with that big house and quite a bit of land.'
'It'd take more than that to persuade most women to saddle themselves with Percy Hodge,' said Jenny.
At that moment they heard a thud in the hall, and Winnie went to collect the post from the door-mat. Willie Marchant, the postman, was making his way back to the bicycle which was propped up by the gate.
Winnie took the letters back to the kitchen, and sat at the table.
'Two for you, Jenny, and one enormous packet for me. What can it be?'
It turned out to be a book, most carefully swathed in tissue paper and then stiff brown paper, with a label addressed in what Winnie suddenly realized was Agnes Fogerty's clear print.
There was a letter enclosed which Winnie read attentively.
'It's a book I lent Miss Fogerty when she was laid up at the Shoosmiths'. I wish she hadn't bothered to return it. The postage is so expensive, and they are bound to be coming up again.'
'How are they?' enquired Jenny, propping her two postcards on the dresser.
'They sound busy, and seem to have made quite a few friends. Dorothy is doing good works, including reading to a blind man called Teddy.'
'Poor chap!' said Jenny. 'I reckon being blind is the worst of the lot. My old
'Well, it's your job, ain't it? What you gets paid for? Weddin's is to be expected.'
'And when's yours to be expected?' asked Albert sharply. 'You havin' it here? White, and all that? I'll look forward to seein' you all dolled up in a mornin' suit and topper.'
Percy looked at him coldly. 'Ah! Very funny, Albert Piggott! I hope I knows how to behave at the right time.'
He pushed aside his glass and made for the door, slamming it behind him.
'You shouldn't have said that,' said Mr Jones, mopping down the counter. 'It's his own business, after all.'
Albert looked faintly embarrassed. 'Well, we all knows he's makin' a fool of himself if he takes up with that Cooke girl. Don't do any harm to twit him now and again.'
'There's such a thing as playing with fire,' the landlord told him, wringing out his cloth. 'How would you feel if some chap made nasty remarks about your Nelly?'
Albert stared stolidly at him across his empty glass. 'I'd join him,' he said.
6. Charles Henstock Does His Best
PERCY Hodge's courtship had been common gossip, in a somewhat desultory way, to all Thrush Green and Lulling. The death of his first wife some years earlier, followed by the departure of his second and their subsequent divorce, had left Percy lonely and on the lookout for a new wife.
At one time he had paid unwelcome attention to Winnie Bailey's maid, Jenny. He had been repulsed, and Jenny was one of those most relieved to hear that Percy's hopes of matrimony might come to fruition in the near future.
She and Mrs Bailey were discussing the matter as they washed up the breakfast things together, for Jenny lived in, in a comfortable first-floor flat in Doctor Bailey's old home. It was a happy arrangement. Winnie had found, to her shame, that she was nervous alone at night after her husband's death, despite the many friends around her. When Jenny's parents died, she was offered her present quarters, and the two women had settled together with the utmost satisfaction.
'I must say,' said Jenny, rinsing cups under the hot tap, 'that it'll be a relief to see Perce settled.'
'Nothing like the relief I felt when you turned him down,' replied Winnie. 'What should I have done without you?'
'There was never any chance of me taking on that fellow,' said Jenny briskly, 'and Emily Cooke's a fool if she does.'
'Well, she does have her little boy to consider,' replied Winnie tolerantly. 'I suppose she feels it is best for Nigel to have a father—or stepfather, I should say.'
'It won't be Nigel she'll be thinking about if she takes on Percy,' said Jenny. 'It's her own comforts that'll be on her mind.'
'Percy is certainly what my husband's people used to call "a warm man", with that big house and quite a bit of land.'
'It'd take more than that to persuade most women to saddle themselves with Percy Hodge,' said Jenny.
At that moment they heard a thud in the hall, and Winnie went to collect the post from the door-mat. Willie Marchant, the postman, was making his way back to the bicycle which was propped up by the gate.
Winnie took the letters back to the kitchen, and sat at the table.
'Two for you, Jenny, and one enormous packet for me. What can it be?'
It turned out to be a book, most carefully swathed in tissue paper and then stiff brown paper, with a label addressed in what Winnie suddenly realized was Agnes Fogerty's clear print.
There was a letter enclosed which Winnie read attentively.
'It's a book I lent Miss Fogerty when she was laid up at the Shoosmiths'. I wish she hadn't bothered to return it. The postage is so expensive, and they are bound to be coming up again.'
'How are they?' enquired Jenny, propping her two postcards on the dresser.
'They sound busy, and seem to have made quite a few friends. Dorothy is doing good works, including reading to a blind man called Teddy.'
'Poor chap!' said Jenny. 'I reckon being blind is the worst of the lot. My old
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