That flitting had been a very dismal affair. An old man out of Baslehurst had come for Mrs. Prime’s things with a donkey-cart, and the old man, assisted by the girl, had carried them out together. Rachel had remained secluded in her mother’s room. The two sisters had met at the same table at breakfast, but had not spoken over their tea and bread and butter. As Rachel was taking the cloth away Mrs. Prime had asked her solemnly whether she still persisted in bringing perdition upon herself and her mother. “You have no right to ask me such a question,” Rachel had answered, and taking herself upstairs had secluded herself till the old man with the donkey, followed by Mrs. Prime, had taken himself away from Bragg’s End. Mrs. Ray, as her eldest daughter was leaving her, stood at the door of her house with her handkerchief to her eyes. “It makes me very unhappy, Dorothea; so it does.” “And it makes me very unhappy, too, mother. Perhaps my sorrow in the matter is deeper than yours. But I must do my duty.” Then the two widows kissed each other with a cold unloving kiss, and Mrs. Prime had taken her departure from Bragg’s End Cottage. “It will make a great difference in the housekeeping,” Mrs. Ray said to Rachel, and then she went to work at her little accounts.
It was Dorcas-day at Miss Pucker’s, and as the work of the meeting began soon after Mrs. Prime had unpacked her boxes in the front bedroom and had made her little domestic arrangements with her friend, that first day passed by without much tedium. Mrs. Prime was used to Miss Pucker, and was not therefore grievously troubled by the ways and habits of that lady, much as they were unlike those to which she had been accustomed at Bragg’s End; but on the next morning, as she was sitting with her companion after breakfast, an idea did come into her head that Miss Pucker would not be a pleasant companion for life. She would talk incessantly of the wickednesses of the cottage, and ask repeated questions about Rachel and the young man. Mrs. Prime was undoubtedly very angry with her mother, and much shocked at her sister, but she did not relish the outspoken sympathy of her confidential friend. “He’ll never marry her, you know. He don’t think of such a thing,” said Miss Pucker over and over again. Mrs. Prime did not find this pleasant when spoken of her sister. “And the young men I’m told goes on anyhow, as they pleases at them dances,” said Miss Pucker, who in the warmth of her intimacy forgot some of those little restrictions in speech with which she had burdened herself when first striving to acquire the friendship of Mrs. Prime. Before dinner was over Mrs. Prime had made up her mind that she must soon move her staff again, and establish herself somewhere in solitude.
After tea she took herself out for a walk, having managed to decline Miss Pucker’s attendance, and as she walked she thought of Mr. Prong. Would it not be well for her to go to him and ask his further advice? He would tell her in what way she had better live. He would tell her also whether it was impossible that she should ever return to the cottage, for already her heart was becoming somewhat more soft than was its wont. And as she walked she met Mr. Prong himself, intent on his pastoral business. “I was thinking of coming to you tomorrow,” she said, after their first salutation was over.
“Do,” said he; “do; come early—before the toil of the day’s work commences. I also am specially anxious to see you. Will nine be too early—or, if you have not concluded your morning meal by that time, half-past nine?”
Mrs. Prime assured him that her morning meal was always concluded before nine o’clock, and promised to be with him by that hour. Then as she slowly paced up the High Street to the Cawston Bridge and back again, she wondered within herself as to the matter on which Mr. Prong could specially want to see her. He might probably desire to claim her services for some woman’s work in his sheepfold. He should have them willingly, for she had begun to feel that she would sooner cooperate with Mr. Prong than with Miss Pucker. As she returned down the High Street, and came near to her own door, she saw the cause of all her family troubles standing at the entrance to Griggs’s wine-store. He was talking to the shopman within, and as she passed she frowned grimly beneath her widow’s bonnet. “Send them to the brewery at once,” said Luke Rowan to the man. “They are wanted this evening.”
“I understand,” said the man.
“And tell your fellow to take them round to the back door.”
“All right,” said the man, winking with one eye. He understood very well that young Rowan was ordering the champagne for Mrs. Tappitt’s supper, and that it was thought desirable that Mr. Tappitt shouldn’t see the bottles going into the house.
Miss Pucker possessed at any rate the virtue of being early, so that Mrs. Prime had no difficulty in concluding her “morning meal,” and being at Mr. Prong’s house punctually at nine o’clock. Mr. Prong, it seemed, had not been quite so steadfast to his purpose, for his
