Country life -- Fiction; Dorset (England) -- Fiction; Short stories
“Well, we was the best o’ friends, an’ so merry as ever we could be. I
had a bonnet lined wi’ pink and a pink ribbon to tie it wi’, and a pink
sash—folks did wear sashes then—and a frock—ah, I can call to mind that
frock! It were the purtiest I ever did have in my life; there was little
bunches o’ roses all over it a-tied together wi’ knots o’ blue ribbon—not
real blue ribbon, ye know—’twas just the pattern on the stuff, but they
was wonderful purty. My mother did say to I when I was a-gettin’ it out,
‘Ye’ll scarce be warm enough in that, Maria’; and I did say, ‘Oh, e—es,
mother, I’ll be warm enough—there be so many on us a-goin’ we’ll keep
each other warm.’ And mother didn’t say nothin’, but she just went to
her box, and she did take out her best shawl as she’d been married in,
and she did say, ‘There, my maid, ’ee can take that too; for thou art a
careful maid and won’t let it come to harm.’
“Well, as I say, we was a merry crew! Dear heart alive, that was we!
There be times, Mrs. Andrews, when I be sittin’ here so lonesome by the
fire, an’ I do say to myself, ‘Was that really me—that vitty young maid!
(for I were reckoned a handsome maid in those days, Mrs. Andrews) as rode
in the big waggon that sunshiny day?’ Thinks I to myself, ‘It can never
have been me—I must ha’ dreamed it’; and then I do look up and see the
rosy plate shinin’ in the firelight, and I do say to myself, ‘Well, it
were I, arter all’; and it’s somethin’ to think as a body was once so
young an’ so merry.”
“True, true,” her neighbour would agree. “But you was a-tellin’ me about
the childern a-runnin’ arter the waggon—I suppose it did not take you so
very long to get to Shroton?”
“Nay, we did get there early in the forenoon, and then John did want me
to go and see the harses jump, and the others was all for goin’ straight
off on the roundabouts. ‘I’ll treat ye, Maria,’ says Tom. ‘And thank
you kindly, Tom,’ says I. And then I did turn round and see poor John
a-lookin’ very downhearted, so I did smile at en over my shoulder, and
did say, soft like, ‘Do ’ee come, too, John.’
“‘Nay,’ says John, very quiet. ‘I think not, Maria. Two be company, and
three be none, ye know.’ ‘Oh, well,’ says I, just to tease en, ‘if you
like to see your old harses jumpin’ better nor to ride along of I, so ye
may for all I care. Which be the way, Tom?’
“‘Why, don’t ’ee hear the music over there?’ says Tom; but ’twas hard to
hear anythin’ the way the folks was a-talkin’ and a-laughin’; and what
wi’ the shootin’, and the knockin’ down cocoa-nuts, and the roundabouts
all a-playin’ different tunes at the same time, and the showmen shoutin’,
and the drums a-beatin’, the noise was enough to dather a body.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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