Chapter 4

Quoth he to me one day, a-setting of 's chin in 's thumb and forefinger (thou mind'st his solemn ways)--quoth he to me, "Lemon," quoth he, "would I knew why the Lord doth seem to look with a more bounteous favor on such as are farriers, than on such as be followers of other trades; for methinks, what with thee, and Turnip, and Job Long-pate, who bides in Dancing Marston, England will owe the chief o' her future population to blacksmiths." I quoth, to humor him, quoth I, "Belike, Master Butter," quoth I, "the Almighty hath gotten wisdom by experience, and doth purpose to put no further trust in gardeners." Whereat he waxed so wrathful, that for the sake o' my breeches I took to my heels. But, Lord! it doth seem as though a had a spite against th' very children o' others. Thou mindest my Keren? By'r lay'kin, 'twill not stick i' my old pate how that thou hast not been in these parts since my Keren could 'a' walked under a blackberry-bramble without so much as tousling her tresses. Well, a grew up a likely lass, I can tell thee! Sure thou mindest why we--my wife and I--did come to call her Keren? Go to! Thou dost! 'Tis the jest o' th' place to this day. Well, then, if thou dost not, I'll be at the pains o' telling thee; for methinks 'twas a wise thought. We did christen her Keren-Happuch; "for," quoth my wife, "when that we be pleased with her, we can call her Keren--which is as sweet-sounding a name as a maid can have; and, on the other hand, when we be wroth with her, we can call her Happuch--which sure would be a rough name even for thy trotting mare Bellibone." Ha! ha! And thereby, comrade, hangs another tale, as Master Shakespeare was wont to say. My wife, thou must know, hath e'er been a loyal admirer o' our gracious Queen, and it comes to her ears one day as how her Majesty did ride a-horseback most excellent well. Naught would do but that I must let Mistress Lemon mount for a ride upon my gray mare Bellibone. Now Bellibone, though as willing a nag as ever ambled, did think far more o' getting to her journey's end than o' the manner in which she did accomplish the journey; and, I will say, a trotted as though a was for breaking th' stones on th' Queen's highway, instead o' getting o'er 'em. Well, I did what I could to dissuade Mistress Lemon from her enterprise, but a was as firm as one o' my surest driven nails in a new shoe. So a let her go. Couldst thou but 'a' seen her when she was returned an hour after! Ha! ha! ha! a was for breaking my head with my own pincers.

"Dost thou call that devil's-riding-horse 'Bellibone?'" quoth she, with what breath there was left to her. "By my troth, I think she hath not another bone in her whole body besides her backbone!"

But I spake o' Keren. Thou knowest that even as a lass she had a sharp tongue o' her own--as keen as a holly leaf, by my troth. So be it. 'Twas one day nigh unto Martlemas that old Butter did undertake to chide her for conducting herself after the manner o' a lad rather than o' a lass.

Quoth she to him, a-setting of her little black pate to one side, and of her little brown arms akimbo--quoth she, "Since the Lord hath not made me a lad," quoth she, "I cannot more than act like one; and so I will do!"

Quoth he, "Thou hast a sour name, a bitter tongue, and a peppery temper, jade; and the two last be not gifts o' the Lord."

"And thou," quoth she, "hast a mustard conceit, for right sure am I that 'tis big enough for a goose to roost in! And whether th' Lord hath given it to thee or not, I'm glad I have 't not," quoth she; for she had heard it read, in some meeting whither her mother would sometimes take her, of how the fowls o' the air did lodge i' th' branches o' the mustard-plant. Well, by'r lay'kin, th' village hath ne'er forgot that to this day, and that I'll prove thee when we be through drinking!

What hath become o' her? Go to! Sure thou knowest that? Well, well 'tis a tale to make a play of. I've often thought, had Master Shakespeare known of 't, how he would 'a' fashioned it into a jolly play. Tell thee of 't? What! art in earnest? By the mass, then, thou must drink again. Come, fill up, fill up. What there! a cup o' the amber drink for Master Turnip!

Let me see: how old was th' lass when thou didst set forth on thy jauntings? Some two years, methinks. And she was fourteen on the first day o' March i' that year wherein she did sauce old Butter with some o' 's own wit for gibing at her for a tomboy. O' my word, man, th' old fellow was not far i' th' wrong. If e'er th' angel o' life did make an error i' th' distributing o' souls, 'twas on the night Keren was brought into this world. And a say that with a cause, moreover; for th' same night, mark you, one Mistress Mouldy, over the way, was brought to bed o' a man-child. That's neither here nor there. Herein doth lie the singularity. That child did grow up to knit stockings i' th' door-way like any wench; Peter Mouldy's th' name, and a plays a part i' th' story I'm about to relate to thee. Ne'er in all thy travels hast thou e'er seen so crack-brain a wench as my Keren! Lord! it set thy head to swimming did she but enter a room. She had no more stability o' motion than a merry-go-round; and she was that brown, a bun looked pale i' th' comparison, when she did lift it to her mouth to eat it. A strapping jade, and strong as any lad o' her age i' th' village. In her seeming she took neither after her mother nor after me, though she was a comely wench as wenches go--hair as black as a January night in stormy weather, and eyes as big and as bright and as yellow (o' my word)--as yellow as two crown pieces! They looked out from under her thick eyebrows like sunlight peeping from a heavy cloud. And she was made like a lad for suppleness. Taller than her mother by head and shoulders, and within a full inch o' my forelock. By'r lay'kin! how she could sing too! She would troll thee a ditty i' th' voice o' a six-foot stripling, but for a' that, as sweet as bells far away on a still noon in summer-tide. And she was always getting hold o' saucy songs, and putting them to tunes o' her own invention. A could 'a' had aye the lads i' th' village, had a wanted 'em; but, Lord! a had one sweetheart one day, and another the next, till they were one and all for murdering or marrying her. But she would none o' 'em. 'Twas one summer's day, her mother being gone to th' village, that she did set about to brew some sack; and as she did stand by the big pot while it cooled, to see that naught fell into 't, up comes Master Peter Mouldy with his knitting, and grins at her across the caldron, after the fashion o' a horse eating briers. She not noticing him, quoth he,

"Good-morrow, sweet Mistress Lemon."

Saith she, not looking at him,

"Thou liest."

"How, mistress?" saith he, with his mouth as wide as a church door on a Sunday.

"Why, for calling a lemon sweet," saith she, "when all the world doth know that it is sour."

Thereat he did fall a-grinning again.

"Sweet, sweet mistress Keren," quoth he, "'tis thee I praise, and not thy name. And I will wager that thou art not sour, Mistress Keren."

"How wilt thou find out, either to lose or to win thy wager?" quoth she.

"Thus!" quoth he. And, o' my word, the homespun got his arms about her, knitting and all (though I would 'a' laid two cows and a lamb they couldn't 'a' reached about her pretty waist), and smacked her right heartily full on her red mouth.

Well, comrade, that something would happen I knew full well; but when she did up with him by the seat o' his breeches and the collar o' his jerkin, and did souse him head first into the pot o' sack, methought I would 'a' burst in sunder, like Judas Iscariot (meaning no blasphemy).

And when he was climbed out, spluttering and white with terror, she did fish out his hat with his big knitting-needles, and did set it upon his head, and did thrust him outside, and did shut the door in 's face. But never a word said she from first to last. Then methought in verity I would 'a' split in twain from top to toe, like the veil o' the temple (meaning no blasphemy, as I will swear on th' book). And when she caught sight o' me she too fell a-laughing, and quoth she to me, "I have spoiled a good brew for thee, father, but 'twas worth the paying for." And therewith she did out with the worth o' the sack from her purse, which she always carried in her bosom, after a fashion inherited from her mother, and counted down the silver into my hand. I took it, for I ever strove to bring up my children in the ways o' honesty; and certes she had spoiled the contents o' the caldron by turning it into a bath-tub for Master Mouldy. Well, 'twas th' talk o' th' village for full a month; scarce did young Mouldy dare put out his nose from behind the lattice o' his mother's cottage. But th' other lads seemed to fall more daft about the lass than aye afore.

Now, my wife's sister had a daughter, called Ruth, and in all things was she most different from my Keren. A'd a head as yellow as Keren's eyes, and eyes as brown as Keren's skin, and a skin as white as Keren's teeth; and a was slim and tender-looking, like a primrose that hath but just ventured out on a day in early spring. Moreover, she was a timid, sweet-voiced creature--the kind o' wench that makes even a weak man feel strong, ye mind, comrade. But a was ne'er o'er-civil to my lass. Neither did Keren waste much love upon her; she said from th' very start that th' hussy had a sly tongue; "and a sly tongue," saith she, "doth ever mate with a false heart," saith she; "and from such a marriage what offspring can ye look for, unless it be for mischief?" saith she.

They had not much to do the one with the other, however, until the coming of Robert Hacket to Pebworth. And a was as fine a lad as e'er caused a lass to don her Sunday kirtle on a Saturday. 'Twas said as how he had met with Ruth while that she was on a visit to her aunt in Dancing Marston, and that he had come to Pebworth to wed with her. All would 'a' been well had not it come to Keren's ears how that Mistress Ruth said that she would bring Master Hacket to see her cousin Keren, but that she did not want her sweetheart to be out with her family ere that he had married into it; meaning neither more nor less than that my Keren was a shame unto her name by reason o' her romping ways.

"The cat!" quoth Keren, waxing as red as any damask rose for very anger; "the little, spiteful cat! But I'll cut her claws for her! Do thou bide and mark me, father. Ay, I'll serve her and her Robert in such wise they'll go to their graves remembering."

Now, 'twas the very next day that the lads and lasses o' the village did crown her harvest-queen, and all Bidford was out to see 't. And very queen she looked, too, borne aloft in a throne made all o' dark red roses, and her dark curls crowned with a wreath o' corn and o' poppies, that shined in the sunlight like to gold strewn all with rubies. She wore a new kirtle of white wool, and her brown throat rose from her white kerchief like as a frozen wood-dove's dusky breast doth peep from new-fallen snow.

And Mistress Ruth walked beside her as one o' her maids o' honor. And they twain did remind me of naught so much as of a lamb trotting by the side of a forest doe--the one so meek and white, and the other so free and brown, with great eyes ever moving, and head aloft.

There, moreover, walked Master Hacket. He was as brown as my Keren, and nearly half as tall again; and he had eyes like pools o' water under a night heaven, wherein two stars have drowned themselves, as 'twere, and brows as black and straight as a sweep o' cloud across an evening sky. Ruth walked at his side, all glittering with her unbound hair, like to a sunbeam that follows a dark stream. And I saw that they talked together, and nodded as though agreeing on something, and looked together at my lass where she sat on her flower-throne with her poppy-crown, and her lips like poppies. And all at once she turned and saw them, and her lips parted over her white teeth in a sudden smile, as when a kirtle o' red silk doth tear over a white petticoat beneath; and she turned away; but I could see that she laughed in her brown throat, as a bird sings sometimes for its own hearkening ere trolling for the whole forest. So I said to myself, "'Ware, 'ware, my little spring lamb; there is trouble ahead for thee. Thou wilt not win thy Boaz so easily as thou dost think, my little Ruth."

Now, when they were come to the fields, and the maids seated under some elm-trees, and all the lads fallen to 't with their sickles, while that they were reaping the glistening corn my Keren doth leap to her feet, and she calls out,

"I know not the name o' yonder man, but I do know that I can give him a lesson in reaping!"

So forthwith up jumps she, and, striding out into the sunlit meadow, jerks young Hacket's sickle from his hand, and, having turned back the sleeves o' her smock, stands well upon her shapely legs and begins to reap.

Now, methought I had ne'er in all my life seen anything more pleasing to look upon. The wind blew down her thick locks about her, so that she was wrapped in a mantle worthy any queen; while with every sweep o' her strong brown arms the tumbling grain did fall like gold about her, so that she seemed to be trampling upon her treasures after a manner truly royal. Also a red came into her shadowy cheeks, like as though a scarlet flower tossed into a clear brown stream should rise slowly upward beneath the limpid surface and shine a-through. And all at once she ceased, and came back towards the young man, and returned his sickle unto him. And she said, smiling,

"Take thou thy blade, for I have not only reaped the grain, but I have reaped the reward of my bragging as well." And, behold! when I was come up to them with a drink o' water in a gourd, there was the blood falling down upon her white kirtle, as though the poppies in her crown had melted in the sunlight and did stain her garment.

He did cry out, saying, "O' my word, lass, thou art deeply hurt. Let me but look at it."

She saith unto him (winding her arm about in her long hair), "Nay, 'tis nothing, and belike if thou look upon it 'twill spoil thy dinner: so here's to thy health, and my father will bind it for me."

Then, when we were retired again into the shade, and I had torn a strip off of her kirtle wherewith to stanch the blood, she laughed outright, and saith,

"By my troth, father! I do verily believe thou thinkest me awkward without a purpose."

"Purpose!" saith I; for I could not believe my ears. "How dost thou mean--purpose?"

"That's neither here nor there," saith she, still laughing. "But I'll lay thee my heifer, father, that Mistress Ruth's sweetheart cometh on the morrow to inquire after Mistress Ruth's cousin Keren."

Wherewith she did make me a deep courtesy, and did get her back to the other lasses ere I could reply.

Well, as I live, and must some day die, and do hope when I do die to get to heaven, I was so taken aback with the hussy's cunning I could do naught but stand and stare after her for some minutes.

And on the morrow he did come, and on the day after that he came, and yet a third day and he was under my roof again.

Then saith my wife, after that his third visit was o'er, and speaking to Keren as she sat spinning i' th' door-way, "Happuch," saith she, "thou art serving thy cousin Ruth a very jade's trick."

Then, hearing as how she did call her "Happuch," I did prick up my ears, as 'twere; for I knew there was anger brewing.

"Thou art very free with thy words to-day, mother," quoth the maid, a-spinning very quickly.

"Not so free as thou art with thy favors to the sweetheart o' another lass," replied her mother.

"How dost thou know he is the sweetheart o' another lass?" saith Keren.

"If an he be not," quoth her mother, who, though not half so big as her child, was in nowise less valiant--"if an he be not," quoth she, "'tis time he were."

"And for why?" saith Keren.

"Thou knowest as well as I do, Happuch," saith my wife; whereat up started my crack-brain in a fine fury.

"Why wilt thou call me that vile name, when thou knowest how it maddens me?" saith she, hurling her spindle upon the floor, and tightening both her pretty hands so that they looked like balls o' her own brown yarn.

"For that I am not pleased with thee, Happuch," saith her mother, with all composure, looking at the linen as she washed it, with her head cocked to one side.

"There again!" shouted my wildfire, stamping with her foot. "Why didst thou not call me Beelzebub and have done with 't?"

"For the reason," quoth her mother, calmly, "that neither Beel nor Zebub is a suiting name for a woman, and, furthermore, that thou art not the Devil, though thou dost act like him on occasions."

"Wife, wife," put in I, seeing that the girl was like to split with rage, "speak gentler to Keren."

"To Happuch," saith she.

"Speak gentler to the girl," saith I, hoping to compromise, as 'twere.

"Happuch," saith my wife again.

"Well, well," saith I, still hoping to split the difference, so that I would have neither my wife nor my daughter upon me, "if thou wouldst only speak gentler to Keren-Happuch, thou--"

"To Happuch," saith my wife a third time; whereat the lass did bounce out o' the house without more ado, and spent that night with a friend o' her own, by name one Mistress Meg Titmouse.

"Wife," saith I unto her later, hoping to draw her into converse concerning Keren, so that I might reason with her as to her treatment o' th' lass--"wife," saith I, amiably, and, as I thought, in a manner most winsome, "wherefore didst thou speak to Keren as thou didst this morning?"

"I spake to Happuch," saith my wife, "because I did choose so to do. And as for the why o' that wherefore, though thou shouldst smirk till doomsday like a dog scratching his ear, ne'er wilt thou get it out o' me!"

Then saith I, being justly angered, as I think thou wilt admit, comrade--saith I,

"Thou art welcome to keep thy counsel!" saith I.

And I followed the example set me by my vixen, and did spend more than half the night at this very tavern.

Well, the next morning, as I did pass out on my way to my forge, whom should I see in the garden but my Keren and Master Robert Hacket! and if e'er a woman was possessed o' a devil, 'twas just that lass o' mine then, comrade. She had caused young Hacket to climb up into a pear-tree, and while that he was up there she did bear away the ladder by which he had mounted, and she saith to him,

"Now, Master Robin, I am going to sing thee a song. Wilt thou listen?"

"With all my heart," saith he. So he leaned on his elbow, stretched out like a young panther along the limb o' th' tree, and looked down on her. Now, as I live, down went that jade on her knees in the grass, and she lifts up her two pretty hands to him as though in prayer, and thus sings she (I knew the song by heart):

"'Listen, Robin, while I woo. This world's stale with repetition: I'll not do as others do; Haste thee, love, to my tuition. Robin, I'll make love to you, As men to other maidens do.

"'Oh, what eyes my Robin hath! April fields own no such blue; In the luscious aftermath There's no flower so fair to view. Robin, Robin, hear me woo. All my soul's in love with you!

"'Robin, will you marry me?-- Thus upon my knees I sue: O' my word I'll harry thee Like as men their sweethearts do. Robin, as I live I'm true: Will you wed me, Robin?--Will you?'"

Now, what chanced thereupon I think thou wilt agree with me, comrade, in saying it did but serve her right. Down falls he like a ripe pomewater at her side, and takes her about the waist, and sets his mouth to hers (all in a twink, comrade; thou hadst not time to shape thy mouth for a whistle ere 'twas all done, or verily my mouth had given forth something besides whistling), and saith he,

"That will I, lass; an' if thou be not my wife ere that snail-coming new moon doth thrust out her horns, my name is not Hacket, nor will thine be!"

Now, comrade, though it doth shame me verily so to speak o' mine own flesh, I saw by her pretending to push him away that she did mightily relish his kisses; for, by my troth! had she sought to scuffle with him 'twould 'a' been as snug an encounter as when day and night wrestle for the last bit o' a June sky.

And she saith to him, feigning to scowl, "How now, thou rapscallion! dost thou dare?"

"Ay, ay," quoth he, "in verity I do!" quoth he. And in verity a did, too.

But just as I was consulting with the Lord how to act, He having had even a greater experience with wayward children than myself (may He pardon me if I be too free with His holy name!)--just, I say, as I was asking Him to show me in what wise to proceed, up goes her hand, and she gives him a sound cuff o' th' ear (young Hacket's ear--not the Lord's; may He pardon me if so it sounded), and she saith,

"Take that for striving to make a fool out o' an honest girl! I know thy goings on with Ruth Visor," saith she. "Thou'lt ne'er blind me with thy pretty speecheries." And a was o'er th' palings and out o' sight like a wind-blown leaf.

Then did young Hacket come to th' fence and lean upon it with both his arms, and support his chin with a thumb on either side o't, and saith he,

"Methinks she'd 'a' made a better warrior than a wife," saith he; "but when she hath ta'en off the edge o' her warlike spirit in fighting for her freedom," saith he, "why, then," saith he, "I'll marry her!" So saith he--every word o't. By my troth, comrade, an I had not had so much the advantage by having my nippers in my hand, I would 'a' thrashed him then and there. But, "fair play" being my motto, and having my nippers, as I saith, I forbore; yea, I forbore, and walked away unseen of him. And, o' my word, I was much angered with myself for not being more angry with th' wench.

"For," saith I, out loud, that I might be impressed by the sound as well as by the knowledge o' th' fact--"for," saith I, a-hammering away on a shoe for Joe Pebbles's brown nag King Edward (though I had often reasoned with Joe on account o' th' name, first because o' its irreverence, second on account o' th' horse not being that kind o' a horse, as 'twas a mare)--"for," saith I, as I made th' shoe, saith I, "'tis sure a great wickedness to steal a lass's sweetheart away from her!" saith I. And so 'twas; but, for all I could do, I could not feel angered with the hussy.

But that day when she did fetch me my dinner, being finished, I did pull down th' sleeves o' my shirt, and wiped off my leathern apron, and quoth I to her,

"Lass, come here and sit upon my knee."

So she comes right willingly, being fond o' me to an extent that did oft seem to astony the mother that bore her (seeing that _she_ was fond o' naught save her own way); she comes, and she perches upon my knee (as sometimes thou shalt see a hawk rest wings on a bull's back), and she kittles my throat with her long brown fingers, and hugs me about the neck (the jade! a knew I was for scolding her), and saith she, "Well, father, here be I." Methinks I can hear her say it now, as soft as any little toddler come for a kiss. "Here be I," she saith; and with that she fills all my face with her curls (the jade! a saw that in my eye which a did not care to face). "Here be I," saith she.

"Ay," saith I, speaking in a gruff voice; "and now that here thou be," saith I, "I'll tell thee what I want of thee."

"Thou canst want naught that I will not do," saith she. (The jade! a had a way with her to 'a' made Bess herself yearn for matrimony.) But I was stanch; I was stanch, comrade. Saith I,