Chapter 10

That night the minister did not stand at the door to shake hands with the departing congregation. Beatups, Putlands, Sindens, Hubbles, Bourners, jostled their way unsaluted into the darkness, groping with umbrellas, fumbling into cloaks. But even the rain could not prevent an exchange of indignation. People formed themselves into clumps and scurried together over the wet road. From every clump voices rose in expostulation and resentment.

“To think as I’d live to be insulted in church!”

“Reckon he’d never dare say half that in a plaace whur folkses’ tongues wurn’t tied to answer him.”

“Maade out as we thought only of our insides,” said Mrs. Sinden. “Seemingly he never thinks of his, when all the village knows he wur trying the other day to make Mrs. Tom give him a tin of salmon fur ninepence instead of one-and-three.”

“And she did it, too,” said Mrs. Putland.

“It’s twice,” said Mrs. Beatup, “as he called me stiff-necked and uncircumcised, and I reckon I aun’t neither.”

“And he said I wur lik an empty jug,” said Mus’ Beatup.

“And his Jerry’s worth a bundle of us,” laughed Mus’ Sinden.

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“Wot vrothers me,” wheezed old Father-in-law Hubble, “is that to the best of my hearing I heard him maake out as Christ died fur all.”

“And why shudn’t he?” asked Mus’ Putland.

“Because Mus’ Sumption’s paid seventy pound a year to teach as Christ died for the Elect, and so he always has done till to-night.”

“Well, seemingly thur wurn’t much Elect in gipsy Jerry, so he had to change his mind about that. Reckon he had to git Jerry saaved somehow.”

“But he’d no call to chaange the Divine council—I’ve half a mind to write to the Assembly about it.”

“Wot sticks in my gizzard,” said Mus’ Bourner, “is that to hear him you’d think as we’re all to blame for Jerry’s going wrong, while I tell you it’s naun but his own mismanaging and bad breeding-up of the boy. ’Bring up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it.’ That’s Bible, but it’s sense too. It’s all very praaper for Minister to stick by the young boy now and say he aun’t ashaumed of him, but if only he’d brought him up Christian and not spoiled him, reckon he’d never have bin called upon to stand thur and say it.”

There were murmurs and assenting “Surelyes.”

“He spoiled that boy summat tar’ble,” continued the smith. “Cudn’t say No to him, and let him have his head justabout shocking. Then maybe he’d git angry when the young chap had disgraced him, and hit him about a bit. But thur aun’t no sense in that, nuther. Wot Jerry wanted wur a firm, light hand and no whip—and Mus’ Sumption ud have been the fust to see it if Jerry had bin a horse.”

“Well, he’s got his punishment now,” said Mrs. Putland. “Poor soul, my heart bleeds for him.”

“Howsumdever, he’d no call to insult us,” said Mrs. [301] Sinden, “and I fur one ull never set foot agaun in that Bethel as long as I live.”

Thyrza Beatup did not walk with the others. Her grief was still too raw, and Mr. Sumption’s words about Tom had made her cry. She carried Will under her cloak, walking quickly over the wet ruts, home to the fire before which she would undress him and put him to bed. Mr. Sumption’s sermon had not had the same effect on her as on the others—for one thing, she thought of Tom more than of Jerry; for another, her feeling towards the minister was of pure compassion. Poor chap! how he must have suffered, how he must have hated all those Who mourned honourably, who grieved for heroes and saints, such as her Tom. What would she have felt, she wondered, if Tom had died like Jerry?...

She wished she could have seen Mr. Sumption after the service, and asked him in to a bit of supper. Poor soul! one could always comfort him through his inside. She was glad Tom had been to see him on his last leave ... he had spoken very nicely of Tom.

She came to the little house, all blurred into the darkness, with the rain scudding before it. A pale, blue light hung under the clouds from the hidden moon, and was faintly reflected in the gleaming wet of the roadway. Thyrza fumbled for her key, and let herself into the shop. The firelight leaped to meet her. As she turned to shut the door, she saw a man go quickly past, head sloped, shoulders hunched against the Wind.