done. That's sure.'
'Then don't put any fire in it,' said the squire.
Now the grapes in question were supposed to be peculiarly fine, and were the glory of the garden of the Small House. They were always forced, though not forced so early as those at the Great House, and Hopkins was in a state of great confusion.
'They'll never ripen; sir; not the whole year through.'
'Then let them be unripe,' said the squire, walking about.
Hopkins did not at all understand it. The squire in his natural course was very unwilling to neglect any such matter as this, but would be specially unwilling to neglect anything touching the Small House. So Hopkins stood on the terrace, raising his hat and scratching his head. 'There's something wrong amongst them,' said he to himself, sorrowfully.
But when the squire had walked to the end of the terrace and had turned upon the path which led round the side of the house, he stopped and called to Hopkins.
'Have what is needful done to the flue,' he said.
'Yes, sir; very well, sir. It'll only be re-setting the bricks. Nothing more ain't needful, just this winter.'
'Have the place put in perfect order while you're about it,' said the squire, and then he walked away.
XXXIX. Doctor Crofts Is Turned Out
'Have you heard the news, my dear, from the Small House?' said Mrs Boyce to her husband, some two or three days after Mrs Dale's visit to the squire. It was one o'clock, and the parish pastor had come in from his ministrations to dine with his wife and children.
'What news?' said Mr Boyce, for he had heard none.
'Mrs Dale and the girls are going to leave the Small House; they're going into Guestwick to live.'
'Mrs Dale going away; nonsense!' said the vicar. 'What on earth should take her into Guestwick? She doesn't pay a shilling of rent where she is.'
'I can assure you it's true, my dear. I was with Mrs Hearn just now, and she had it direct from Mrs Dale's own lips. Mrs Hearn said she'd never been taken so much aback in her whole life. There's been some quarrel, you may be sure of that.'
Mr Boyce sat silent, pulling off his dirty shoes preparatory to his dinner. Tidings so important, as touching the social life of his parish, had not come to him for many a day, and he could hardly bring himself to credit them at so short a notice.
'Mrs Hearn says that Mrs Dale spoke ever so firmly about it, as though determined that nothing should change her.'
'And did she say why?'
'Well, not exactly. But Mrs Hearn said she could understand there had been words between her and the squire. It couldn't be anything else, you know. Probably it had something to do with that man, Crosbie.'
'They'll be very pushed about money,' said Mr Boyce, thrusting his feet into his slippers.
'That's just what I said to Mrs Hearn. And those girls have never been used to anything like real economy. What's to become of them I don't know;' and Mrs Boyce, as she expressed her sympathy for her dear friends, received considerable comfort from the prospect of their future poverty. It always is so, and Mrs Boyce was not worse than her neighbours.
'You'll find they'll make it up before the time comes,' said Mr Boyce, to whom the excitement of such a change in affairs was almost too good to be true.
'I am afraid not,' said Mrs Boyce; 'I'm afraid not. They are both so determined. I always thought that riding and giving the girls hats and habits was injurious. It was treating them as though they were the squire's daughters, and they were not the squire's daughters.'
'It was almost the same thing.'
'But now we see the difference,' said the judicious Mrs Boyce. 'I often said that dear Mrs Dale was wrong, and it turns out that I was right. It will make no difference to me, as regards calling on them and that sort of thing.'
'Of course it won't.'
'Not but what there must be a difference, and a very great difference
