Janice Meredith: A Story of the American RevolutionFord, Paul Leicester
History
Janice Meredith: A Story of the American Revolution
Ford, Paul Leicester
United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Fiction
Not the least of her difficulties was her bearing toward the
bondsman. Conditions were still so primitive that the relations
between master and servant were yet on a basis that
made the distinctions between them ones of convenience rather
than convention, and thus Janice was forced to mark out a
new line of conduct. At first she adopted that of avoidance
and proud disregard of him, but his manner toward her continued
to convey such deference that the girl found her attitude
hard to maintain, and presently began to doubt if he
could be guilty of the imputation. Nor could she be wholly
blind to the fact that the groom had come to take a marked
interest in her. She noted that he made occasion for frequent
interviews, and that he dropped all pretence of speaking to
her in his affected Somerset dialect. When now she ventured
out of doors, she was almost certain to encounter him, and
rarely escaped without his speaking to her; while he often
came into the kitchen on frivolous pretexts when she was
working there, and seemed in no particular haste to depart.
Several times he was detected by Mrs. Meredith thus idling
within doors, and was sharply reproved for it. Neither to this,
nor to the squire's orders that he should put an end to his
"night-walking" and to his trips to the village, did he pay
the slightest heed.
Fownes entered the kitchen one morning in November
while Janice and Sukey were deep in the making of some
grape jelly, carrying an armful of wood; for the bond-servant
for once had willingly assumed a task that had hitherto been
Tom's. Putting the logs down in the wood-box, he stood
with back to the fire, studying Miss Meredith, as, well covered
with a big apron, with rolled up sleeves, flyaway locks, and
flushed cheeks, she pounded away in a mortar, reducing loaf
sugar to usable shape.
"Now youse clar right out of yar," said Sukey, who, though
the one servant who was fond of Charles, like all good cooks,
was subject to much ferment of mind when preserving was to
the fore. "We uns doan want no men folks clutterin' de fire."
"Ah, Sukey," besought Charles, appealingly, "there 's a
white frost this morning, and 't is bitter outside. Let me
just warm my fingers?"
Sukey promptly relented, but the chill in Fownes' fingers was
clearly not unendurable, for in a moment he came to the
table, and putting his hand over that of Janice, which held
the pestle, he said:--
"Let me do the crushing. 'T is too hard work for you."
"I wish you would," Miss Meredith somewhat breathlessly
replied. "My arms are almost ready to drop off."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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