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“Shaw? They’re old standards, is Shaws. Phoebe? They called her mother Phoebe. Phoebe Johnson. She were a dainty lass! My father were very fond of Phoebe Johnson. He said she allus put him i’ mind of our orchard on drying days; pink and white apple-blossom and clean clothes. And yon’s her daughter? Where d’ye say t’young chap come from? He don’t look like hereabouts.”

“He don’t come from hereabouts. And yet he do come from hereabouts, as one may say. Look ye here. He come from t’ wukhus. That’s the short and the long of it.”

“The workhouse!”

“Aye.”

Stupefaction. The crows chattering wildly overhead.

“And he owns Darwin’s Dovecot?”

“He owns Darwin’s Dovecot.”

“And how i’ t’ name o’ all things did that come about’!”

“Why, I’ll tell thee. It was i’ this fashion.”

* * * * *

Not without reason does the wary writer put gossip in the mouths of gaffers rather than of gammers. Male gossips love scandal as dearly as female gossips do, and they bring to it the stronger relish and energies of their sex. But these were country gaffers, whose speech–like shadows–grows lengthy in the leisurely hours of eventide. The gentle reader shall have the tale in plain narration.

NOTE–It will be plain to the reader that the birds here described are Rooks (corvus frugilegus). I have allowed myself to speak of them by their generic or family name of Crow, this being a common country practice. The genus corvus, or Crow, includes the Raven, the Carrion Crow, the Hooded Crow, the Jackdaw, and the Rook.

SCENE I.

One Saturday night (some eighteen years earlier than the date of this gaffer-gossiping) the parson’s daughter sat in her own room before the open drawer of a bandy-legged black oak table, balancing her bags. The bags were money-bags, and the matter shall be made clear at once.

In this parish, as in others, progress and the multiplication of weapons with which civilization and the powers of goodness push their conquests over brutality and the powers of evil, had added to the original duties of the parish priest, a multifarious and all but impracticable variety of offices; which, in ordinary and late conditions, would have been performed by several more or less salaried clerks, bankers, accountants, secretaries, librarians, club-committees, teachers, lecturers, discount for ready-money dealers in clothing, boots, blankets, and coal, domestic-servant agencies, caterers for the public amusement, and preservers of the public peace.

The country parson (no less than statesmen and princes, than men of science and of letters) is responsible for a great deal of his work that is really done by the help-mate–woman. This explains why five out of the young lady’s moneybags bore the following inscriptions in marking-ink: “Savings’ bank,” “Clothing club,” “Library,” “Magazines and hymn-books,” “Three-halfpenny club”–and only three bore reference to private funds, as–“House-money”–“Allowance “–“Charity.”

It was the bag bearing this last and greatest name which the parson’s daughter now seized and emptied into her lap. A ten-shilling piece, some small silver, and twopence halfpenny jingled together, and roused a silver-haired, tawny-pawed terrier, who left the hearthrug and came to smell what was the matter. His mistress’s right hand–absently caressing–quieted his feelings; and with the left she held the ten-shilling piece between finger and thumb, and gazed thoughtfully at the other bags as they squatted in a helpless row, with twine-tied mouths hanging on all sides. It was only after anxious consultation with an account-book that the half-sovereign was exchanged for silver; thanks to the clothing-club bag, which looked leaner for the accommodation. In the three-halfpenny bag (which bulged with pence) some silver was further solved into copper, and the charity bag was handsomely distended before the whole lot was consigned once more to the table-drawer.

Any one accustomed to book-keeping must smile at this bag-keeping of accounts; but the parson’s daughter could never “bring her mind” to keeping the funds apart on paper, and mixing the actual cash. Indeed, she could never have brought her conscience to it. Unless she had taken the tenth for “charity” from her dress and pocket-money in coin, and put it then and there into the charity bag, this self-imposed rule of the duty of almsgiving would not have been performed to her soul’s peace.