Craiktrees

Front matter

CRAIKTREES CRAIKTREES BY WATSON DYKE Hontion T. FISHER UNWIN PATERNOSTER SCjUARE Mdcccxcvii [All rights reserved. ] CONTENTS Chap. Page I. Prologue, i II. Riggside, 8 III. In the HayField of the Low Farm, '5 IV. 'Faint Heart Never won Fair Lady,' 30 V. The Great Fair, 45 VI Joseph Hammel meets with an Accident, 5- VII VIII Abel Lea, 6o Betsey's Friends give Her Advice, 66 IX And Betsey takes It, 77 X. Joseph Hammel takes to Playing Cards, 87 XI And Batty is Only a Day Behindhand, Rob and Betsey, .... 95 XII. XIII XIV. XV. io6 ' Madam's Mooshoire,' >i3 Alice is Surprised, . 122 Joseph is Facetious and Everyone is at the Well, 129 XVI. Eastholm, I3S XVII. XVIII. Abel Lea as Peacemaker, . 145 Two Letters and a Parcel for Craiktrees, 154 Joseph and Batty play Whist in the Capacity of Partners, ....

XIX. 160 Vll Page i 66 175 i85 193 201 2l6 224 229 236 241 247 254 viii CONTENTS Chap. XX. Rob Rides his High Horse again and Alice is Appeased, . XXI. Joseph ventures the 'Ace o' Trumps,' and feels Sure of His Hand, XXII. ' How Are the Mighty Fallen ! ' XXIII. Andrew Skeffington finds the Yellow Bag Empty, ...... XXIV. The Sale of Eastholm, XXV. Robert Hammel makes up His Mind, XXVI. The Eight Train for London, . XXVII. Betsey hears the Truth, XXVIII. And writes Her First Letter to Rob, . XXIX. Betsey and Abel Lea go to London. . XXX. Joseph's Hand ' not ' a Success, . XXXI. The Wedding Party, CRAIKTREES

Prologue

A WARM sun shone down on to the white road. Joseph Hammel, on his way to visit his brother, looked up into the sky, and, by way of expressing his displeasure, drew out his lower lip and frowned. The road was dusty and was a climb to the very door of Riggside. Joseph felt that he was a generous man in making this visit to his brother. For many years ago, perhaps twenty, Joseph and Batty had quarelled. This quarrel had been patched up now fifteen years but the older never visited the younger without recollecting it. The house known as Riggside had a history. The same family had lived there as long as the dales people cared to reckon, and the character of the A CRAIKTREES 2 family was bad. They were noted for spendthrifts and misers, but more especially the latter, as the spendthrifts generally ran through their fortunes and died young, while the misers lived to a good old age, hoarding and saving for half a century.

When Batty Hammel married the servant girl from Eastholme, Joseph gave his brother up as a lost character. The farm girl was steady, faithful and industrious — Joseph felt sure that Batty was lost forever. So he took a small barn on his own land, and, with the help of a mason, converted it into a dwelling. Here he lived, after his own fashion, watching his brother from a distance. He heard that Batty got drunk at fairs ; it was whispered that the savings of the last generation were all gone from Riggside. He vvas told that he was now an uncle, but Joseph never came down to the farm. He lived in the barn on the bare necessaries of life, and hoarded money by all manner of means. One day he met Batty. Joseph vvas going to the Hill Fair, travelling by inches on a worn-out nag — a beast that was chiefly noticable for its long tail and ungainly amble.

His brother came trotting along on a fine young Galloway, and seing his brother Joseph, stopped, disposed to be friendly. ' Eh, Jos,' he said, ' I sud be gay and glad to see thee down to Riggside. Thee'd mebbe like to get a squint of thee nevvy ? ' But Jos said never a word, and Batty, trying to

PROLOGUE.

3 see his brother's face, and gaining a glance he hardly liked, set spurs to his horse and was soon out of sight. Three years later Joseph was told that his brother's wife was dying. He received the news indifferently ; but when he returned to the barn that evening he wrote a letter which he put by in his Sunday coat pocket till he heard of his sister-in-law's death. Then it was sent to his brother. Batty received the scrawl that evening. It was some time before he made it out, then he put it on the dresser and sat down on the settle to think. This was in pencil on a sheet of paper : — ' To my Brother Batty. — This is to say, let rob cum to my hous til she gits beried. frome 'jos Hammel.' Batty was not fond of thinking ; he was much troubled at the death of his wife, and the grief of little Rob filled him with dismay, so he called Libby and said, — ' Thou can git Rob his does together, and tie 'em up, and tak' him doon to his uncle's ; and thou can do't now.' Mercy on us ! ' said Libby ; ' puir bairn ! is he to gang to that dismal spot?' ' If thou talked less and did more it wad be a deal better,' said Batty, avoiding the question and bury ing his face in his hands.

CRAIKTREES 4 The girl shrugged her shoulders but did as she was bid. ' Whar's ter goin' to tak' me to ? ' inquired the bit of the boy in the green corduroys. ' What for are ye puttin' me on me best dods ? Is't me moother ye're goin' to let me see ? ' Tears came into the girl's eyes. ' Puir Rob ! ' she said, ' thou's gangin' to see thee uncle.' ' I'd a deal rather thou'd tak' me to see me moother.' ' Thee uncle's a mon ; and he's gotten a horse and iver sae much brass,' said the girl. ' But I'd a deal rather ye gave me a sight o' me moother,' the boy persisted. ' Thou maun say gude-day to thee dad.' The small boy went up to his father and pulled the brown hands from the browner face. ' I say farewell, dad.' ' Ay, Rob, ye maun be a gude lad, and do all that thee uncle tells thee.' ' I'se heeard tell,' said Rob, ' as he's not mebbe syke a gude fellow as he should be.

I'st true, think yer?' The small, hard fingers kept the father's hands from hiding his face. ' Thar's naebody sae gude as thee mother ; thee'U find that, lad ; it's a sinfu' warld.' ' Hoo's that ? ' inquired the boy. ' Tell me aboot me moother.'

PROLOGUE.

5 ' She's dead and her sowl's gone to Heaven,' said the father, in a hoarse, dazed voice. ' That's what they talk syke a lot aboot in the chapel. Let me go thar ; I want me moother.' ' Gang awa', Rob ; my heart's too sore to chatter wiv ye.' So Rob and Libby set off. Old Joseph stood at his door peering across the field ; the nephew saw the uncle for the first time. ' He's rather owd and peevish, Lib,' said three-year old Rob. ' Thou's a smart boy,' said the girl. ' He's not bonny and I don't like him. I'd a deal leaver ye took me to me moother, Lib ' His voice sounded tearful. Lib hurried on. ' Weel ! ' exclaimed old Joseph, fixing his small, keen, blue eyes on his nephew, ' thou's cum, Rabert ? ' The wee Robert gazed up. 'Is't me uncle I'm talkin' wiv?' he inquired, chirping suddenly, as was his wont.

The girl set off at a run, and never stopped till she had gone half a mile. The boy waited for an answer. ' Ay, it's thee uncle,' said Joseph. ' Thou's spokken truth, thou has ; come awa' in.' ' Doesn't ither soaks speak the truth, uncle ? ' ' We'se hope so, we'se hope so,' said the old man, ' won't we, Rab ? ' ' Foaks wad git verra much mixed up if big folks telled lies like the bad childer in the bukes.' ' Can thou read, Rab ? ' Joseph asked quickly. CRAIKTREES ' Nay, I'se not gotten on to my feet yet ; in a bit, uncle — in a bit ; but I'se heerd tales read outo' bukes. Me moother reads gran'.' ' Sit thee doon by the fire and rest theesel'.' ' It's a small, poking fire, uncle. Why doesn't a git a load o' coals in ? My dad wad have had them in lang syne.' ' I'se warm eneuf, Rab, wi'oot. Foaks shad learn to du on amaist naething.' ' It's a verra puir sort ov a building to call a house.

Thou's livin' in a verra li'le way ; thou maun be puirer than Craiktree Betty ? ' ' I'se much richer, Rab,' said the old man, dropping a fork and coming closer to the boy. ' If thou wants to be a powerfu' rich mon live on amaist naething.' 'The Squire's rich, uncle, and he's gotten some gran' things.' ' Rob,' said his uncle,' riches can do amaist any thing. If ye want to be like t' Squire, ye git money whar ye can git it, and don't ye be ower partickler how.' Joseph stopped; the boy looked bewildered. He remembered the child was only three; and rather afraid of what he had said, he cut some slices of bacon, and soon had them frizzling on the fire to change the lad's thoughts. The lad's thoughts changed for the time, but they came back again the next time he saw a school lad with some coppers. This was how Joseph and Batty made it up again. When the funeral was over, Batty dismissed Lib and

PROLOGUE.

7 came up to the barn for Rob. He found the child drinking in knowledge with the power of a true Hammel. His conscience awoke for a moment and the thought of his wife oppressed him, but a sight of his brother was a breath of the old, exciting days, and Joseph was kind enough to treat Batty to liquor, for his own reasons. So when Rob and his father left the cottage that night, it vvas with the promise to meet again as soon as farm work permitted, and Batty's rough courage combined with Joseph's low cunning, as in the days of old — and money grew in the dingy black box.

Chapter II Riggside

Joseph Hammel reached the gate that led to Riggside with sundry puffs and interjections. He had been old at forty, now at fifty-five he was a fossil, dried, withered, and shrunken. He had a message of some importance for his brother or he would not have come out in the heat of the day ; the night was his friend and he knew it. Up he toiled, along the green slope with its worn track, driving the geese away with a low hiss peculiar to him, coming through his toothless jaws as an east wind will do when a door is opened quickly. It was not a pleasant sound, but it was original, so Joseph thought it was very clever, and always used it when he saw the children. The door at Riggside stood wide open, and the broad, bright daylight shining into the room, showed too plainly the want of womanly care.

The old dresser was laden with dirty crockery and other RIGGSIDE 9 odds and ends. There were crumbs on the wooden sofa and an old hen flew down from the clock when she heard Batty's brother. Batty hung over the fire sprinkling meal into a large pan ; the flour covered his coat and lay about the fender. He vvas too absorbed to notice Joseph. ' Whar's Rab ? ' inquired the intruder, sending the hen under the sofa by a jerk of his leg. Batty turned round and opened his eyes wider to get a squint at Joseph. He let the porridge drop from the stick before he took in the fact, much less the question. ' Rab, did ye say ? Rab ? He's be in directly, Jos ; he's nobbut helping t' Ewbanks a bit ower t' hay turn'. Thou's nowt to say again that, has thou ? ' ' It's wan way o' makkin' t' brass,' said Joseph, sitting down on the sofa, and rubbing his worn breeches carefully, ' but it's nowt to do wi' me, that I knows on.' ' Come now, Jos, thou knaws verra different to that.' ' Rab's a lad that's keen of his own way.

I telt him yesternight I didn't want him to gang down to the Low Farm. I telt him to save himself for us.' ' He's young and flighty, Jos, I canna wonder ; thou mus'n't expect owd heads on young shoulders. That's a proverb, Jos — for sure it is.' ' Proverbs is the crookedest things out. Ye may twist them any gait ye please. Rab maun learn to have an owd head or we'se be nowt' 1 We're not sae verra much aboon that, now,' said CRAIKTREES 10 Batty, with a bit of a gleam coming into his blue eyes, as he peered at his brother through a glare of sunbeams. ' It'll be the Highburn Fair come next Saturday.' 'Weel?' ' Rab and I'se going.' Batty said this with an air of high delight and much wonder as to how Jos would take his speech. ' Then thou's a ninny', said Jos. ' Nae doubt o' that,' Batty answered. ' Does thou mean to lessen thee brass or to turn it ower by a gude bargain ? ' ' I'se going to spend it, ' said Batty, chuckling again ; ' me and Rab's goin' to ride our high horses.

We settled it this forenune.' ' Then thee and Rob is nae Hammels, and Rob will be the ruin of the family.' ' Nay, nay, Jos. Rob's gotten spirit eneuf and he's afraid of nowt that walks this earth, sae long as it's a canny thing. But he's nobbit twenty-two — young — a verra young stick.' ' He's afraid o' wan thing,' said Joseph, squint ing at the cat ; ' and it's that which will be the ruin ov us.' ' What is't, Jos, mon ? ' ' He's afraid he's forget his mother, and it's keeping him with a rascally conscience which I hate to see in Rab. It's brewin' to mischief.' ' He's be takkin' a wife, think ye,' suggested Batty, spluttering with laughter at the thought, ' and then ye'll be done again, Jos.' RIGGSIDE 11 Joseph hissed. ' Thou's not going to encourage him in syke a fright ful notion ? ' ' I'se let him gang his own gait, Jos.

I'se not tie him either way. I was mighty fond o' the girls mesel' when I were twenty-two.' ' Thou was a ninny A said Jos, ' and I'se do my best to keep Rob in the right direction. He'll gang down to the village and set up a residence for hisself, for none ov the lassies would tak' to the Riggside or to owd Batty for the matter ov that' Rob's father suddenly changed his mood ; his face gloomed considerably. ' Oh, bless us ! ' he said, ' the lad's nae idea of ony syke a thing, I'se glad to say.' 'I'se nowt to do wi't,' persisted Joseph, shaking his head and glancing sideways at the fire, ' but I'se warnin' ye, Batty — from a brotherly point ov view, ye'll understand ? ' 'We'se change the soobjec',' said Batty, pouring the porridge into three basins. ' To the evilness o' the dark nights, which hide the evil-doers, eh, Batty ? ' ' To the blessings, Jos,' Batty retorted, with his usual grin. ' Thar's Rab comin' through the pasture like a gude one — just give a glance.' Joseph turned round, and the two men watched the lad as he came striding along.

The father's face beamed with pride, for Rob had grown straighter and handsomer than ever a Hammel before. Even Joseph thought what good stuff it was to be wasted on a conscience. CRAIKTREES ' He's gotten a fine eye. I shad think it's the con science that's given him that,' said Batty, thoughtfully. ' He's as strife as a pine tree,' said Jos. ' He'd mak a gran' soldier if the job paid well ; but I canna see what gude being strite will do the lad hissel'.' ' He swings gran',' continued the father, ' fra' side to side, and he's gotten a bonny head, too, but whist ! he's hear us,' he added, going to the door and pre tending to look indifferent. 'Come into thee dinner, lad,' he called. ' I'se ready, father,' said Rob; ' I'se terribly hungry, but the porridge looks hot for hay turn'.' ' It's gude for thee, Rab.

A Hammel niver said " no " to a pot o' porridge. And that's our family motto which we wad have writ on our carriage if we had one.' ' Weel, Rab,' said Jos, eating carefully with a wooden spoon, ' give's a glint o' your e'en.' ' Onything noo to be done ? ' inquired Rob, turning to his uncle. ' It's the way o' mischief. Is't the rabbit warren thou'll be wantin' me to visit this night' 'Thou's mighty sure o' thee ground, Rab. But I'se a question to ask thee first. I'st a-gangin' back this afternune ? ' 'Ay, for certain. Ewbank is in a terrible fright about some clouds i' the west. I'se to be back as soon as I can mak' it convenient, which means at one't' ' Ay, ay,' said Joseph. ' Hoo many workers has he got, think yer ? ' RIGGSIDE 13 'There were six ov us i' the field this forenune, t' maister, mesel', t' lad, Mike, li'le Hasel and t' missus.' Rob counted them off on his fingers. ' So thou reckons theesel' next to t' maister, does thee ?

And t' missus is wuss than nowt' ' It's me manners which is to fault,' said Rob. ' T' missus is a gran' worker, like maist o' the women folks, but I think I stand next to her, for Dick plays all the time, and he's as careless as a hedge-sparrow, and Mike's a slow brute wi' a deal o' stupidity about him.' ' So thou's cock o' the walk ? ' ' Nay, I'se not say that — not when t' maister's in the field, onyway.' ' Why doesn't Alice get her sister to help her ? — owd Craiktree Betty's grandchild, her as come latterly to look after her grandmother. Why doesn't she get that lass i'stead o' gettin' Hammels into wark they're not cut out for ? ' Joseph said this slowly, and with several different shades of meaning in his eyes. ' I shall always be glad to wark for Ewbank,' said Rob, leaning back in his chair, till he brought it with a jerk against the wall, ' on account of Alice.

She's a kind body, is Alice ; a true sowl, if iver thar was wan, and she's been a frien' to me.' ' Pack o' rubbish — daft kind o' talkin',' said Joseph. ' I'se speakin' verra plain truth,' continued Rob. ' I'se fond o' the lad, too. That li'le Hasel's gotten a lot ov his moother about him, and she's a verra gude woman indeed.' CRAIKTREES 14 ' Thar's more folk nor Alice that'll be gude to ye, Rab,' said Batty, putting both elbows on the table and gazing at his boy. ' Not sae mony,' said Rob, a shade bitterly. ' He's sighin' for frien's,' muttered Joseph. ' He's sick o' two owd men bodies. He wants to get in wi' the set in the village ; he's clean forgot he's a Hammel. A verra handsome boy is our Rab ! ' 'Ye ken he's me own,' said Batty, jealously. ' Oh, ay, I ken that,' said Jos ; ' he's daft to be back again.

I'se bet ye both a shilling that Alice's bonny young sister is gangin' down this afternune.' ' Ye wadn't risk a bet, if ye weren't dead certain,' said Rob ; ' whar did ye pick up that knowledge ? ' ' Whar I pick up a lot o' wisdom. By kennin' whar to use the blessed sight o' hearin'. But this lass is verra beautiful, so they tell me.' ' I'm glad eneuf to hear it,' said Rob, ' and sae I'se say gude-day to ye both ; and I can tell ye, I shall have a verra interestin' time if the lass is onything like Alice.' He went out, and, as soon as he had reached the pasture gate, Batty grinned, and Joseph twirled his thumbs and sat mopish. ' He's verra high-spirited,' said Batty, persuasively. 'Thar's a lot ov him that isn't Hammel,' said Jos, grimly.

CHAPTER I II IN THE HAYFIELD OF THE LOW FARM

' A hare-brained, sentimental trace Was strongly marked in her face, A wildly, witty, rustic grace Shone full upon her. Her eye e'en turned on empty space, Beamed keen wi' honour.' R. Burns. THE Low Farm vvas situated pleasantly right down in the valley, and with views from the top windows of Riggside upon the hill, and the smoke of the lonely building going up into the sky. Alice Ewbank often stood on the flags outside the kitchen door to gaze at the old house ; and wonder what the poor young fellow would come to in the hands of the two old men. She would shake her head sadly, and think of Rob's good mother till the tears came into her eyes. Alice's heart was tender for the boy, and she planned many things for his escape, but certainly not the one which vvas so soon to present itself. The Low Farm lay lower than the road, and, as you passed up above, you might see the chimneys and CRAIKTREES roof among the tall trees that rose higher than the wall and were the delight of all visitors who came past that way.

It was no uncommon thing for Alice to espy the figure of some stranger peering down curiously to see where the trees came to an end, and then, observing the farm kitchen and the yard with its scoured milk cans on the whitewashed shelf, they would stop here to rest and to watch the movements of the goodwife thinking that manners might be left behind with civilisation. When Alice saw them she would send Hasel up on to the road to find out who they were and to come and tell her what they were like, for Alice would know everything that happened on the Queen's high way, and was not for missing such a chance for the sake of saving Hasel's legs. To-day she was in a marvellous bustle, and mightily pleased with her own importance. The milk cans were as well scoured as though it were the winter season, and yet Alice had everything to do in the farm kitchen for she possessed no servant.

It was invigorating to see her giving her orders, with her motherly soul all alive to the feelings of those around her, while her mind worked out the day's problem. She was busily engaged in packing the baskets with the afternoon meal for the haymakers, generally termed the 'drinkings.' Her hands went deftly to work as she fitted the fresh cakes into an unfilled corner, and questioned Hasel briskly, so that she might understand how the field progressed. 'Is Rob down yet?' she inquired. 'Ay,' said Hasel, fixing his large, brown eyes on the cakes. ' He's been down — oh, mebbe an hour or more — and he's warkin' verra hard, mother, so you maun put him up a gude drinking.' ' He's not get better nor onybody else, or thar'd be a talk. Whose warkin' best, think ye ? ' ' Father and Rob.' 1 I'se not surprised.

Leave they cakes alone, lad ; Rob's a fine fellow, and puts hard wark into onything he taks up.' ' When's me aunt coming, mother ? ' ' It's queer she's not turned up,' said Mrs Ewbank, looking out of the door and trying to see the road. ' I'se afraid my grandmother can't be sae weel.' ' She's coming now,' cried Hasel, rushing to the door. ' See, mother, up on t' road ! She's lookin' down. Isn't that me Aunt Betsey? ' Mrs Ewbank came to the door and looked up. ' So it is. I'm right glad. Tell her she can hurry up and carry the drinkings down. Off went Hasel, for, to his mind, Betsey was the best aunt in the world. The girl opened the gate and came lightly down the broken, soily slope that led to her sister's home. The sun and the brightness lay on the road above her, and she had been a dark figure in the light ; but, as she neared the bottom of the rough descent, she became a thing of brightness like some beautiful B CRAIKTREES spring flower that comes suddenly to view in a dark wood.

Little Hasel called out in glee when he saw her. 'Hi! Hello, Aunt Betsey! Thou's late. We thought ye was niver coming nigh to-day.' ' Weel — ' said Betsey. ' Bless us, mon, how ye grow! Yer kitle's gettin' quite small i' the armholes. Ye'll be bigger nor your father in a twinkling ! ' Hasel ran on, as children will do, to tell his mother, and rush back again if need be, but Alice was out to meet Betsey. ' Thar's nae doubt that she's a canny lass,' thought the goodwife, 'what wi' her shining hair and her smiling eye ; she's as fresh as the dew that gathers sae thick in the li'le garth ahint the house.' ' My heart alive, Betsey ! ' she said aloud, ' I'se rare and glad to see you. What it is to part for the sake o' meetin'.' ' Thar's a gude deal in the parting, Alice, but more in the meeting ; for when ye're ganin' awa' it's all tears, but when ye come together again it's both.

Eh, Alice, but ye get younger ivery day ! ' There were tears in Betsey's eyes and tears in Alice's ; it was three months since the sisters had met. ' I'se settin' ye to wark at onct, ye see,' said Alice. 'The fact is, Betsey, we're upset complete, with hay-time, and I'se been nigh run off me legs. They're gettin' the High Close in this afternune, sae if ye'd gang wi' Hasel and the drinkings, we might have a bit of a sit and a chat ower our tea.' ' Give me the basket,' said Betsey. ' I came down to see ye wi' that excuse. Granny's a bit fretful, and calls me if I stay ower long. She's nae that fresh and gets a bit lonely.' 'Ay, puir thing, I'se afraid it's nobbut dull for you, Betsey, up wi' an owd body like that I'se sorry for ye, I is.' Betsey laughed. ' It's a' in the way o' life,' she said ; ' and she's awful gude to me.' 'Weel, here's the basket, girl, and I must off to me wark ; tak' the dog wi' ye.

Go away off, Hasel, and fetch him.' So Betsey and the basket, Hasel and the dog, set off for the High Close. ' Do you see them warkin', Betsey ? ' said Hasel. ' It's an awful field ! Ye see it's on a slope, and the rocks stick out o' the grass ; it's a tirrible nuisance to git it mown, but it's hotter wark gettin' it in, I can tell ye.' ' I see it is,' said Betsey. ' Who have ye got to help ye ? Thar's your father I see up on t' highest ridge like a captain, Hasel ; and thar's Mike restin' himsel' on his rake and gazing aboot him ; and thar's Dick sending the hay flying. That's three of them ; but thar's two more. Whar do they come from ? ' ' Weel, ye see that wan again father — the big fellow, in the shirt sleeves — that's Rob Hammel from the house on the hill — Riggside, ye ken — and the other CRAIKTREES chap's a Trotter from the village — I like Rob awful.' ' Hammels havena a very gude name i' these parts,' said Betsey. ' But he's gude, Betsey ; he's not like the rest ov them.

I don't say like sae verra gude, but not sae bad, ye understand.' ' And that's a very creditable thing for a Hammel, eh?' ' He's verra decent, and I'se no hear a body call him names,' said Hasel. ' He's lookin' this way,' said Betsey. ' He sees the dog,' said Hasel ; ' he's fair capped wi' the dog.' ' By all I recollect,' said Betsey, ' Hammels is generally capped wi' dogs especially ov a night-time. Are you gangin' in by the stile ? ' ' Ay,' said Hasel, ' come awa' in, ye needn't be shy' So Betsey followed him. ' Mike, Rob, Dick, all ov you, come and git your drinkings,' shouted Ewbank, ' and be sharp about it ; for there's some nasty clouds i' the west, and we've nae time to spare. Put your rakes again' the wall, — other way up, Mike — and be sharp, do ye hear?' It was about three o'clock in the afternoon and the heat was intense.