We always liked John's stories, not for any wit in them; but because we laughed at the man, rather than the matter. The way he held his head was enough, with his chin fixed hard like a certainty (especially during his biggest lie), not a sign of a smile in his lips or nose, but a power of not laughing; and his eyes not turning to anybody, unless somebody had too much of it (as young girls always do) and went over the brink of laughter. Thereupon it was good to see John Fry; how he looked gravely first at the laughter, as much as to ask, 'What is it now?' then if the fool went laughing more, as he or she was sure to do upon that dry inquiry, John would look again, to be sure of it, and then at somebody else to learn whether the laugh had company; then if he got another grin, all his mirth came out in glory, with a sudden break; and he wiped his lips, and was grave again.
Now John, being too much encouraged by the girls (of which I could never break them), came into the house that December evening, with every inch of him full of a tale. Annie saw it, and Lizzie, of course; and even I, in the gloom of great evils, perceived that John was a loaded gun; but I did not care to explode him. Now nothing primed him so hotly as this: if you wanted to hear all John Fry had heard, the surest of all sure ways to it was, to pretend not to care for a word of it.
'I wor over to Exeford in the morning,' John began from the chimney-corner, looking straight at Annie; 'for to zee a little calve, Jan, as us cuddn't get thee to lave houze about. Meesus have got a quare vancy vor un, from wutt her have heer'd of the brade. Now zit quite, wull 'e Miss Luzzie, or a 'wunt goo on no vurder.
Vaine little tayl I'll tull' ee, if so be thee zits quite. Wull, as I coom down the hill, I zeed a saight of volks astapping of the ro-udwai. Arl on 'em wi' girt goons, or two men out of dree wi' 'em. Rackon there wor dree score on 'em, tak smarl and beg togather laike; latt aloun the women and chillers; zum on em wi' matches blowing, tothers wi' flint-lacks. "Wutt be up now?" I says to Bill Blacksmith, as had knowledge of me: "be the King acoomin? If her be, do 'ee want to shutt 'un?"'"Thee not knaw!" says Bill Blacksmith, just the zame as I be a tullin of it: "whai, man, us expex Tam Faggus, and zum on us manes to shutt 'un."'"Shutt 'un wi'out a warrant!" says I: "sure 'ee knaws better nor thic, Bill! A man mayn't shutt to another man, wi'out have a warrant, Bill. Warship zed so, last taime I zeed un, and nothing to the contrairy."'"Haw, haw! Never frout about that," saith Bill, zame as I be tullin you; "us has warrants and warships enow, dree or vour on 'em. And more nor a dizzen warranties;fro'ut I know to contrairy. Shutt 'un, us manes; and shutt 'un, us will--" Whai, Miss Annie, good Lord, whuttiver maks 'ee stear so?'
'Nothing at all, John,' our Annie answered; 'only the horrible ferocity of that miserable blacksmith.'
'That be nayther here nor there,' John continued, with some wrath at his own interruption: 'Blacksmith knawed whutt the Squire had been; and veared to lose his own custom, if Squire tuk to shooin' again. Shutt any man I would myzell as intervared wi' my trade laike. "Lucky for thee," said Bill Blacksmith, "as thee bee'st so shart and fat, Jan. Dree on us wor a gooin' to shutt 'ee, till us zeed how fat thee waz, Jan."'"Lor now, Bill!" I answered 'un, wi' a girt cold swat upon me: "shutt me, Bill; and my own waife niver drame of it!'
Here John Fry looked round the kitchen; for he had never said anything of the kind, I doubt; but now made it part of his discourse, from thinking that Mistress Fry was come, as she generally did, to fetch him.
'Wull done then, Jan Vry,' said the woman, who had entered quietly, but was only our old Molly. 'Wutt handsome manners thee hast gat, Jan, to spake so well of thy waife laike; after arl the laife she leads thee!'
'Putt thee pot on the fire, old 'ooman, and bile thee own bakkon,' John answered her, very sharply: 'nobody no raight to meddle wi' a man's bad ooman but himzell.
Wull, here was all these here men awaitin', zum wi' harses, zum wi'out; the common volk wi' long girt guns, and tha quarlity wi' girt broad-swords. Who wor there?
Whay latt me zee. There wor Squire Maunder,' here John assumed his full historical key, 'him wi' the pot to his vittle-place; and Sir Richard Blewitt shaking over the zaddle, and Squaire Sandford of Lee, him wi' the long nose and one eye, and Sir Gronus Batchildor over to Ninehead Court, and ever so many more on 'em, tulling up how they was arl gooin' to be promoted, for kitching of Tom Faggus.
'"Hope to God," says I to myzell, "poor Tom wun't coom here to-day: arl up with her, if 'a doeth: and who be there to suckzade 'un?" Mark me now, all these charps was good to shutt 'un, as her coom crass the watter;the watter be waide enow there and stony, but no deeper than my knee-place.
'"Thee cas'n goo no vurder," Bill Blacksmith saith to me: "nawbody 'lowed to crass the vord, until such time as Faggus coom; plaise God us may mak sure of 'un."'"Amen, zo be it," says I; "God knoweth I be never in any hurry, and would zooner stop nor goo on most taimes."'Wi' that I pulled my vittles out, and zat a horsebarck, atin' of 'em, and oncommon good they was.
"Won't us have 'un this taime just," saith Tim Potter, as keepeth the bull there; "and yet I be zorry for 'un.
