And indeed a pleasant sight it was, and one that did my heart good to see. For right down the centre of the barn ran a long table, which the carpenter had fixed up that morning, with benches on either side that would seat each over fifty persons. The walls were gaily spread with fresh-plucked boughs, and Lucy had ornamented the table with bunches of flowers, so that there was green, and red, and white, and blue everywhere. But if the flowers on the table looked well, what shall I say of all the goodly dishes that almost hid the snow-white cloth from sight? My mother, like all good housewives, loved hospitality, and nothing would satisfy her but that she must put before her guests all that she could devise or our larder command. I do not think that the daintiest epicure could have found fault with our table that night, for if the fare was homely, it was well cooked and pleasantly served, which is no small matter. As for the beef, it was of Jacob Trusty’s own feeding, and so was the bacon, and our people seemed to think that there was additional recommendation in that. At any rate, they praised both by sending up their plates time and again, and the carvers had a merry time of it, and so had Jack Drumbleforth, whose office it was to preside at the great barrel of ale that had been placed in the coolest corner of the barn. Everybody, indeed, was at his or her busiest attending to the wants of our guests, and my mother’s face beamed with satisfaction as she watched the men and their wives and children enjoying their entertainment.
Though I had somewhat hung back from it, being always loath to put myself forward, they had forced me, saying it was the proper thing, to take the chair at the head of the long table, and preside over this great feast. So there I sat in my best, feeling as if every eye was fixed upon me, and yet very proud withal of the honour, and Jacob Trusty and Timothy Grass, being our oldest men, sat one on either side of me, while Parson Drumbleforth sat at the foot of the table as vice-chairman. While the supper was being discussed, every man was too busily engaged to think of aught else; but when all had eaten their fill, and their minds had a chance, certain of the older men began to look at Jacob Trusty and cough in a significant manner, so that I immediately grew very hot about the ears, knowing right well that they wanted Jacob to propose my health, which would oblige me to make a speech in reply. For a time, however, Jacob Trusty did not choose to take the hint. Perhaps he was already composing his speech in his own mind, or waiting for an idea to come to him. However, the silence and the expectant looks continuing, Timothy Grass thought it well to call Jacob’s attention to the matter.
“I think, Jacob,” said Timothy Grass, “I think the folks expect a word or two from you, it being a great occasion, and you the oldest man present. So up, Jacob, and let us hear what hast got to say, man.”
I think that Jacob was secretly pleased with his mission, and felt his own importance in the matter, though, like other greater men, he pretended that he rose with diffidence, and was unprepared to sustain so difficult a part. Jack Drumbleforth, too, said that he was minded to believe that Jacob had been committing his little speech to memory, and practising it in spare moments; but I paid no heed to Jack, knowing of old that Jacob was a ready talker, and never fast for words. However, I question whether Jacob ever had so large an audience, or such an attentive one, as upon that occasion, for every eye was turned upon him, and the youngest stable-boy ran outside into the fold to drive away the hens which were cackling and clucking without the barn-door.
“Master William, and friends all,” said Jacob, when he had fairly gotten upon his legs, and Parson Drumbleforth had rapped loudly upon the table to command attention—“Master William, and friends all, this is a great occasion, and has been honoured accordingly. I thank God that I have lived to see it, to see the lad grow into a man. And such a man! Friends, I have seen three generations of Dales, and they have all been big men; but this is bigger all ways, length and breadth, wherefore, I say, I am glad, because the old stock is as fine as ever. Now, there’s some among you who can remember Master William being born, and how he grew up to a lad, and you’ve seen him change from a lad to a man. All that I’ve seen too, perhaps a bit closer than most of you, because he’s been mine from the very first, and he’ll not deny it. Who showed him his first bird’s-nest but Jacob Trusty? Who made him his first whip, or gave him his first ride a-horseback, but me? I ha’ done a deal for him, child and boy, and I feel a sort o’ right in him. Well, friends all, Master William has come to manhood at last, and here he sits amongst us, master of the good old acres on which you and me have toiled. Here he sits for all to look at and admire—a fine, big man, like his fathers, six foot four in his stockings, and strong as a bull. And so, friends, having seen him grow up to manhood, I have seen all I wished for, and can die happy. ’Tis but a poor way of saying it, but Master William knows how old Jacob loves him and the old place. So now, friends, young
