She thought it over a minute, her pencil poised in her hand and her eyes on his face"Can you," she said, "undertake to get men from other villages, and superintend what they do? If you can do that, the work is still passing through your hands, and Stornham will reap the benefit of it.Your workmen will lodge at the cottages and spend part of their wages at the shops, and you who are a Stornham workman will earn the money to be made out of a rather large contract."Joe Buttle became quite hot.If you have brought up a family for years on the proceeds of such jobs as driving a ten-penny nail in here or there, tinkering a hole in a cottage roof, knocking up a shelf in the vicarage kitchen, and mending a panel of fence, to be suddenly confronted with a proposal to engage workmen and undertake "contracts" is shortening to the breath and heating to the blood.
"Miss," he said, "we've never done big jobs, Sim Soames an' me.
P'raps we're not up to it--but it'd be a fortune to us."She was looking down at one of her papers and making pencil marks on it.
"You did some work last year on a little house at Tidhurst, didn't you?" she said.
To think of her knowing that! Yes, the unaccountable good luck had actually come to him that two Tidhurst carpenters, falling ill of the same typhoid at the same time, through living side by side in the same order of unsanitary cottage, he and Sim had been given their work to finish, and had done their best.
"Yes, miss," he answered.
"I heard that when I was inquiring about you.I drove over to Tidhurst to see the work, and it was very sound and well done.If you did that, I can at least trust you to do something at the Court which will prove to me what you are equal to.I want a Stornham man to undertake this.""No Tidhurst man," said Joe Buttle, with sudden courage, "nor yet no Barnhurst, nor yet no Yangford, nor Wratcham shall do it, if I can look it in the face.It's Stornham work and Stornham had ought to have it.It gives me a brace-up to hear of it."The tall young lady laughed beautifully and got up.
"Come to the Court to-morrow morning at ten, and we will look it over together," she said."Good-morning, Buttle."And she went away.
In the taproom of The Clock, when Joe Buttle dropped in for his pot of beer, he found Fox, the saddler, and Tread, the blacksmith, and each of them fell upon the others with something of the same story to tell.The new young lady from the Court had been to see them, too, and had brought to eachher definite little note-book.Harness was to be repaired and furbished up, the big carriage and the old phaeton were to be put in order, and Master Ughtred's cart was to be given new paint and springs.
"This is what she said," Fox's story ran, "and she said it so straightforward and business-like that the conceitedest man that lived couldn't be upset by it.`I want to see what you can do,' she says.`I am new to the place and I must find out what everyone can do, then I shall know what to do myself.' The way she sets them eyes on a man is a sight.It's the sense in them and the human nature that takes you.""Yes, it's the sense," said Tread, "and her looking at you as if she expected you to have sense yourself, and understand that she's doing fair business.It's clear-headed like--her asking questions and finding out what Stornham men can do.
She's having the old things done up so that she can find out, and so that she can prove that the Court work is going to be paid for.That's my belief.""But what does it all mean?" said Joe Buttle, setting his pot of beer down on the taproom table, round which they sat in conclave."Where's the money coming from? There's money somewhere."Tread was the advanced thinker of the village.He had come--through reverses--from a bigger place.He read the newspapers.
"It'll come from where it's got a way of coming," he gave forth portentously."It'll come from America.How they manage to get hold of so much of it there is past me.But they've got it, dang 'em, and they're ready to spend it for what they want, though they're a sharp lot.Twelve years ago there was a good bit of talk about her ladyship's father being one of them with the fullest pockets.She came here with plenty, but Sir Nigel got hold of it for his games, and they're the games that cost money.Her ladyship wasn't born with a backbone, poor thing, but this new one was, and her ladyship's father is her father, and you mark my words, there's money coming into Stornham, though it's not going to be played the fool with.
Lord, yes! this new one has a backbone and good strong wrists and a good strong head, though I must say"--with a little masculine chuckle of admission--"it's a bit unnatural with them eyelashes and them eyes looking at you between 'em.
Like blue water between rushes in the marsh."Before the next twenty-four hours had passed a still more unlooked-for event had taken place.Long outstanding bills had been paid, and in as matter-of-fact manner as if they had not been sent in and ignored, in some cases for years.The settlement of Joe Buttle's account sent him to bed at the day's end almost light-headed.To become suddenly the possessor of thirty-seven pounds, fifteen and tenpence half-penny, of which all hope had been lost three years ago, was almost too much for any man.Six pounds, eight pounds, ten pounds, came into places as if sovereigns had been sixpences, and shillings farthings.
More than one cottage woman, at the sight of the hoarded wealth in her staring goodman's hand, gulped and began to cry.If they had had it before, and in driblets, it would have been spent long since, now, in a lump, it meant shoes and petticoats and tea and sugar in temporary abundance, and the sense of this abundance was felt to be entirely due to American magic.America was, in fact, greatly lauded and discussed, the case of "Gaarge" Lumsden being much quoted.
