THE SILENT WOMAN.

Waikato Argus, Volume V, Issue 372, 26 November 1898, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE SILENT WOMAN.

1 was busy in my potato patch hoeing between the rows, and thinking whether it was quite worth my while to expend so much of my vital force in raising the tubers, seeing that I had only to climb over the garden fence and help myself to my neighbours, when I was startled—'lis thus conscience doth make cowards of us all !-by a thin sharp voice coming from the further side of the front hedge asking "Is old Diggleby at 'ome?" Looking up I s iw a little, old, high-coloured face, round and red, and withered as one of last year's pippins, peering at me from under a shock of iron-grey hair. Tr.e facs was that of a little old woman of about 0 > years and was mapped all over with lines and wrinkles - the footprints of those stealthy thieves. Time aud Labour, Care, Sickness, and Sorrow. In one hand she dangled a battered old sunbonnet. In the other she grasped a thick stick which she flourished in such a warlike and threatening manner that I was not sorry, being a man of peace, that the hedge intervened between uo. I saw at a glance that it was Mrs Medlicott, one of my nearest neighbours, who, with a sick husband to nurse and the remainder of a large family to "do for," as she expressed it, yet contrives to manage a small farm, mostly ti true scrub, about two miles from our place. " I nay, mister," she repeated, " is old Diggleby at 'ome ?" " I am Mr Mortimer Diggleby," said I, drawing myself up and casting a look? at her that would have scorched a Salamander. But it didn't scorch her—it seemed rather to freshen her up. " Ah, I see, you are old—Mister Diggleby, I mean. I didn't recognise you at fust. My eyes ain't so good as they wus when I was a gal, aud the 'intmeut for weak sight as 1 bought of a man as wusn't a teetotalls, which he said he got the recipe from an old Injun in Oaliforny, and would make me see anytliink, wasn't no good and only brought on information which I had to go to Dv Sawyer to get cured and costed me a pretty penny. But wot I come 'ere for, Diggleby, is to let you know as me an' my ole man don't mean to stand it no longer—that ole cow o' yourn a-bustin' in our fences an' damagin' an' gobblin' every bit o' green stuff in our garding, includiu' cabbiges and ungyens—not to speak o' turnips aud carrots and such like, an' 1 says to my ole man, 'lf ole Diggleby—that's you—doesn't know no better, we must make Mm, neck or nothin, an' I ses, ses I, we must make him pay damiges, it wc laws 'ini for it, for no wonder, ses I, he gets 101 b o' butter a week from that ole cow o' 'is when she sucks the very vitals out o' other people's hitching gardings. And I wants damiges, Diggleby, and damiges I will 'ave, which this very last blessed night shs bust in and swallowed 39 cabbiges, mostly 'arts, as 1 val eys at tuppence farden each, which by my reckoning cemes to fifteen and sixpence three fardeos, and I won't take a penny less, which you well knows I'm a 'ardworkin' woman, an' wouldn' rob you not if I was to go to jail for it. an' if my 'usband wusn't loose in all 'isjintsan' 'is 'ead turned the wrong way though having rhoomatiek lever twice, he would 'ave come 'isself, but sent mo, knowed as I would ask you proper an' no words about it. So stand staring like a stuck pig, but please to fork out sixteen shil-

liu's and ninepenco three fardeus, which is what I wants, an' wants immejit, or I'll law you, an' " " But my good woman," L wedged in, " I must "

"Don't ' my good woman ' me, Digg'.eby. I'm not your good woman, an' wouldn't be, not if my old man an' your old woman was to die to-mor er, an' you wus to court me for 99 years, for as I ses to my ole man if you're ' took ' I won't marry agin not if the Prince (f Wales wus to ask me and Mm a widdyer, for a 3 is well known I've 'ad 15 children already, which two of 'em was twins, and brought 'em all up respectable exceptin' four on 'em as died, an' 1 couldn't 'elp that, for as you must 'ave 'erd one on 'em died of yaller jack at Sirra Lorny on board the brig Nancy, which it wus 'is fust viae;o, an' would '*ve bin spared if 'is mother 'ad bin there to muse 'em, but as is well known them ships captings only gives their men tar-water when they're sick, which ain' good fo' man or beast, ajt the sayiu' is ; an' little Jim he died o' the measles seven years come next Toosday week, which [ bears in mind an' well I may, for the measles 'ad come oat beautiful, which you ciu't deny as your Sairey Jane's weren't nigh as pretty, aa' as the doctor said, Jim was quite a pictur,' an' that spotted as you couldn't see ; is skin for 'em, an' the doctor ses ' Keep em warm, .vlrs Medlicott, keep 'em wann,' which I should just like to know who could better with four blaukets, all oi 'em doubted, a hot bottle on 'is stommick, an' a great fire a-blazin' on the 'arth fit to roast a pig, which I 'ad just stepped out; to Mrs Grummidge to return a flat iron, an' was as quick as quick in gettin' back, for I 'ates gossipin,' when my 'art almost jumped clean out o' our Tom apumpin' on 'im, to 'cool isself,' as Jim said, which nf course it druv the measles in,\ an' iu five minutes there wasn't a blessed measles to be seen an' cours pore little Jim died, an' 'ow could I 'elp it with my 'usbaud down with 'is fust roomaticks an' seen boys as them o' miue to see to everythink ; but as I was a-sayin/ when you put in your oar—an' trust a man for wantin' to 'ave all the say to 'imself —I've come about them damages, an' if I stays 'ere a month an' the road I'll 'ave 'em -nineteen shillin's and elevenpence three fardeus, which it ought to 'a been a pound, won't break you, Diggleby—or that cow o' yourn I'll pound as sure as you're burn, an' I'll 'ave "

But here I threw down the hoe, dashed up the garden path, and unchained Gripps, my little fiery bull terrier, and the last I saw ol the little old woman she was making her little feet go sixteen to the dozen down the road with Gripps snappping and barking at her heels.

11, A few days after I had been startled by the apparition of Mrs Mecllicott over the garden hedge, the peaceful slumbers and repose of my household were broken by a kind of subdued bustle and exciceineuc, the prelude to a not uncommon event in the establishment of a married man—an event which is generally received with mixed feelings of satisfaction and anxiety. The night before a mysterious female had arrived, a middleaged, shabbily-clad individual, with a cast in one eye and a thin sharp face of u cadaverous hue, drawn to a point, with a long stiletto-like nose slightly tipped with red. The face wore a melancholy and lugubrious expression, and altogether the aspect of the personage, with her dress of dingy black, was that of one more accustomed to officiate at exists from, rather then entrances into, this naughty world. She brought with her. evilleutly with the design of staying some time, a big and several brown paper parcels, besides a basket from the lid of which protruded the neck of a bottle probably containing some kind of temperance beverage. Immediately on arrival this funereal-look-ing person, who was no other than Mrs Dosemwill, an experienced month'y nurse, took command of the entire household, dragooning and ordering the master about in a way that was a sore trial to his spirit. In the middle of the chilly night—it always happens in the middle of the chilly night—l was despatched by this autocrat of the sickroom for the doctor and my mother-in law. The latter is a dignified and stately figure of a woman, w.th a bold and severe cast of coutspanee, the dominating feature of which is a nose, not thin and sharp like Mrs Doaemwill’s, but of a solid Roman type, and, as the prominence of this feature usually indicates, my mother-in-law is a woman of a very energetic and determined character. For this aged disciplinarian I entertain a most profound respect—almost too profound, I sometimes think, inasmuch as it borders on fear. She had, as it were, scented the battle from afar, and having her camp equipage already packed was on the field some minutes in advance of the doctor. She ami her natural ally, Mrs Dosemwill, soon summarily ejected me from the scene of their labours, and I sought a temporary refuge in a little room about 6ft square at one end of the verandah, which I call my study, but which contains nothing suggestive of studious habits, unless a couple of armchairs, a set of empty decanters (the relies of a time antecedent to my donning the blue ribbon), a few ancient, highly-coloured pipes and a jar of tobacco can be said to be so. Here about 3 a m. I was joined by my old friend Dr Drenebard, who came to apprise me of the great event which had occurred upstairs and to congratulate me thereupon. I bad already received the doctor’s felicitations on half a dozen previous similar occasions, and consequently received them now without any violent emotion. After euchanging the customary courtesies, I invited the doctor to join me in a drink-offering of - ginger ale ! a capital thing on a raw morning in early winter ! The doctor, who be it understood is one of the old school and does not appreciate to the full extent the virtues that lie hidden in there delightful modern temperance beverages, made rather a wry face at the mention of‘‘ginger age.” “I do not, Diggleby,’’ he said, “as a rule prescribe intoxicating liquids of any sore, but there are occasions, Diggleby, there are occasions when t he exhibition of a little alcoholic stimulant is both comforting and beneficial to the system 1 usually jecommen I it at such times as births and funerals. You know. Digglcby,” added the doctor silly, “Husbands generally require comforting on either of those occasions.” I wished I could have offered the doctor a glass of cognac, his favourite refresher, but Mrs Digglesby calls spirits a “ serpent ” ami ,a “ roaring lion,” and will not allow such dangerous creatures to come near the house. Presently the doctor withdrew and loft me to ruminate on this new cause for anxiety and on my troubles in general. 1 certainly did require comforting at this time. The clouds seemed to bo gathering all about me, and I could not perceive any patch ol blue in the prospect to inspire mo with fresh hopes. Things were far from prosperous on my little farm. There was a long drought lasting all the summer to the verge of winter, which had caused the feed for horses and cattle to bo scarce indeed. The M'orched-up paddocks had no more nourishment in them than an old door mat. Turnips had neither tops nor tails

and mangels were nowhere. Eire's, too, ono of our sourc.s of profit, had been down 80 low that nothiiu.' short of an earthquakes would bring them up a«rain, and as for butter there was scarcely any for market, and what there was molted away on the road. Then apples, notwithstanding the drought, had been so plentiful that the very pigs turned up their snouts at them, and the prico at market only rjsulted in a balanco of 7d a bushel on the wrong sitle of the account. And how, thought I, with this state of things am I to meet the interest on that mortgage now mx months overdue ?

While I whs in the midst of these meditations I was suddeulv aroused by someone knocking loudly at the door with a thick stick. I arose, and opening it, my late visitor, old Mrs Medlicott, again appeared before mo. Before I could speak she had opened the Maxim guns of her eloquence full upon me; " Look 'ere, Diggleby, me and my old man don't mean to wait no longer. I've called again for them, damiges, which I wants immejit, and won't take no for an answer, which you calls yourself a man to set that bull carryar o' yourn on an old woman when she called afore,' as only come for her lawful rights, which they say as I can bring an action airin you for it, which a pair of bran new stockings as I gave Is ll£d for as the young man said was worth double the money wus tore to piecos, which it was a mussy he drawed no blood, but frightened mo most into fits, for the beast wouldn't let go till a man came along and persuaded him to with a stockwhip. But," continued the old lady, suddenly changing her note, " bull tarryars is on<3 thing and damiges is another ; and, Diggleby, I'll 'ave " ■ "Damages, Mrs Medlicott?; pretending to be oblivious of her first visit. " To what damages do you refer':" '•You know very well. Diggleby; it's no use you pretendinsr to be as hinneroeut as a tomcit. Its damages for that old cow !o yourn a-bustin' iu our garden fetice and boltin' 53 cabbies, mostly 'arts, which I valleys at each, which by reokonin' comes to 19s 11 fd, which it ought to 'ave been a pound, an' I won't take a penny less. Do you hear, Diggleby?" said the old lady rising her voice, " 19s which if you give ma a noto I'll send Mary Ann round with the change. Don't stare. Diggloby, but fork out the money at once." "I wish you wouldn't make so much noise," I said. "You wili disturb Mrs Diggleby." " Disturb fiddlestick !" said she. " What if I do? I wants my lawful rights, which is well known and is the talk o' the place as Mrs D.'s cock-o'-the-walk in your 'ouse, and that you dossant even flap your wings when she's nigh." " 1 don't know whut you mean," said I, rather nettled, " about cock-o'-the-walk" and " flappiuu: my wings" It's not always the rooster that crows the loudest that's master of the barnyard or picks up the most worms. But Mrs Diggleby has some reason to crow just now although she is confined to her perch." " What do you mean, Mr Diggleby j" said the old lady, forgetting for the moment all about "them damages"— " is Mrs Diggleby ill?" " Well," said I, "she's not exactly robust just now. Haven't you heard the news?"

" News," said she. " "What nows ?" "Why, at 17 miuutes past 2 this morning the wife of Mr Mortimer Diggleby of twins."

" Twins, Diggleby ! Twins '."—and tho little old woman gave a skip in the air. "You don't say so. I wouldn't have thought it of her. Well, if I'd aknowod I'd 'ave left them damiges till another day, which I've 'ad 15 of'era myself." " Good gracious, Mrs Medlicott, lo twins!"

" Get along with you, Diggleby ! Only one pair o' twins and the rest singles. And 'ow are they doin'? Is both of'em alive?''

•' Alive ! I should say they are alivß—just listen—and kicking too !" " Ah, that's right, poor little dears, They don't know what's aforo them, as the man said to the pigs ho was drivin' to tho slaughter 'us, which I well remember my own fust as wus a single, an' was born with one eye open an' the other shut, as the doctor says it looked as if it was winking at its mother, as much as to say, "Well, here's a pretty joke, I wonder what father 'all say P" And tho boy wont through life winkin' for one eye wus always weaker than t'other, and tho boys called him Blinkeye, especially that dratted Bill Grummage, as 'ad bandy logs, as' 'is mother ought to 'ave been ashamed on. But Sarah Grtimmago was one of them women as'll talk, talk, talk a donkey's hind leg off, bat as for doing anything it wasn't in her. My motter is —" Keep your mouth shet, keep your eyes open an' say nothing to nobody." But how do you like babies, Diggleby ?" said tho old lady checking herself in full career.

I was about to reply as Charls Lamb did to a similar question that I liked them boiled, but I said, "Well, I don't cotton to them much ; at least not until they're old enough to use a pocket handkerchief."

'' Ah," said she, "there's some as likes them fust an' some as likes 'em afterwards, but I likes 'em always, for there isn't a baby in the wide world as 1 couldn't love. But Diggleby, can I see 'em ? said she eagerly. " I'm dyin' to see the precious little dears." "Well, Mrs Medlioott, if you'll promiso not to say a word I'll sac if _ Mrs Doaemwill will admit you." " You're a good man, Diggleby. I'll bo as quiet as a tombstone. And, Diggleby, I'll let thorn damiges stand over for a bit, for woll I know as money's wanted at sech times as these, but please to bear in mind and chalk it up. as its o 3 cabbages, mostly 'arts, at 2Ad, as coinos to 19sll|d." With that I led the way to the sickroom and after some negotiation with the guardian spirits at the door Mrs Modlicott was admitted, and I was left to consider by what new and improved system of arithmetic the old lady contrived to make 53 cabbages, if " most 'arts," at2jd each come to 19s llfd.- H.l<.P.