`I know I'm behind with the interest,' said Mr Moss, `but I was so unlucky wi' the wool last year, and what with the Missis being laid up so, things have gone awkarder nor usual.'
`Ay,' snarled Mr Tulliver, `there's folks as things 'ull allays go awk'ard with: empty sacks 'ull never stand upright.'
`Well, I don't know what fault you've got to find wi' me, Mr Tulliver,'
said Mr Moss deprecatingly, `I know there isn't a day-labourer works harder.'
`What's the use o' that,' said Mr Tulliver, sharply, `when a man marries and's got no capital to work his farm, but his wife's bit o' fortin? Iwas against it from the first; but you'd neither of you listen to me.And I can't lie out o' My money any longer; for I've got to pay five hundred o' Mrs Glegg's, and there 'ull be Tom an expense to me, as I should find myself short, even saying I'd got back all as is my own.You must look about and see how you can pay me the three hundred pounds.'
`Well, if that's what you mean,' said Mr Moss, looking blankly before him, `we'd better be sold up and ha' done with it; I must part wi' every head o' stock I'n got, to pay you and the landlord too.'
Poor relations are undeniably irritating: their existence is so entirely uncalled for on our part, and they are almost always very faulty people.
Mr Tulliver had succeeded in getting quite as much irritated with Mr Moss as he had desired and he was able to say angrily, rising from his seat, `Well, you must do as you can.I can't find money for everybody else as well as myself.I must look to my own business and my own family.
I can't lie out o' my money any longer.You must raise it as quick as you can.'
Mr Tulliver walked abruptly out of the arbour as he uttered the last sentence and without looking round at Mr Moss went on to the kitchen door where the eldest boy was holding his horse, and his sister was waiting in a state of wondering alarm, which was not without its alleviations, for baby was making pleasant gurgling sounds and performing a great deal of finger practice on the faded face.Mrs Moss had eight children, but could never overcome her regret that the twins had not lived: Mr Moss thought their removal was not without its consolations.`Won't you come in, brother?'
she said, looking anxiously at her husband, who was walking slowly up, while Mr Tulliver had his foot already in the stirrup.
`No, no; good-by,' said he, turning his horse's head and riding away.
No man could feel more resolute till he got outside the yard-gate and a little way along the deep-rutted lane; but before he reached the next turning, which would take him out of sight of the dilapidated farm-buildings, he appeared to be smitten by some sudden thought, for he checked his horse and made it stand still in the same spot for two or three minutes, during which he turned his head from side to side in a melancholy way, as if he were looking at some painful object on more sides than one.Evidently, after his fit of promptitude, Mr Tulliver was relapsing into the sense that this is a puzzling world.He turned his horse and rode slowly back, giving vent to the climax of feeling which had determined this movement by saying aloud, as he struck his horse, `Poor little wench! she'll have nobody but Tom, belike, when I'm gone.'
Mr Tulliver's return into the yard was descried by several young Mosses, who immediately ran in with the exciting news to their mother, so that Mrs Moss was again on the door-step when her brother rode up.She had been crying, but was rocking baby to sleep in her arms now, and made no ostentatious show of sorrow as her brother looked at her, but merely said, `The father's gone to the field again, if you want him, brother.'
`No, Gritty, no,' said Mr Tulliver, in a gentle tone.`Don't you fret - that's all - I'll make a shift without the money a bit - only you must be as cliver and contriving as you can.'
Mrs Moss's tears came again at this unexpected kindness, and she could say nothing.
`Come, come! - the little wench shall come and see you.I'll bring her and Tom some day before he goes to school.You mustn't fret...I'll allays be a good brother to you.'
`Thank you for that word, brother,' said Mrs Moss, drying her tears;then turning to Lizzy, she said, `Run now, and fetch the coloured egg for cousin Maggie.' Lizzy ran in, and quickly reappeared with a small paper parcel.
`It's boiled hard, brother, and coloured with thrums - very pretty:
it was done o' purpose for Maggie.Will you please to carry it in your pocket?'
`Ay, ay,' said Mr Tulliver, putting it carefully in his side-pocket.
`Good-by.'
And so the respectable miller returned along the Basset lanes rather more puzzled than before as to ways and means, but still with the sense of a danger escaped.It had come across his mind that if he were hard upon his sister, it might somehow tend to make Tom hard upon Maggie, at some distant day, when her father was no longer there to take her part; for simple people, like our friend Mr Tulliver, are apt to clothe unimpeachable feelings in erroneous ideas, and this was his confused way of explaining to himself that his love and anxiety for `the little wench' had given him a new sensibility towards his sister.
