 Section 8 of Under the Greenwood Tree. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Under the Greenwood Tree by Thomas Hardy. Part 1, Chapter 8. They dance more wildly. Dick had at length secured fancy for that most delightful of country dances, opening with six hands round. Before we begin, said the tranter, my proposal is that it would be a right and proper plan for every mortal man in the dance to pull off his jacket considering the heat. Such low notions as you have, Ruben. Nothing but strip will go down with you when you're a dancing. Such a hot man as he is. Well now, look here, my sonnies, he argued to his wife, whom he often addressed in the plural masculine for economy of epithet merely. I don't see that. You dance and get hot as fire, therefore you lighten your clothes. Isn't that nature and reason for gentle and simple? If I strip by myself and not necessary, it is rather pot-housy I own. But if we stoutchaps strip one and all, why? It is the native manners of the country which no man can gain say. Hey, what did you say, my sonnies? Strip we will, said the three other heavy men who were in the dance, and their coats were accordingly taken off and hung in the passage. Wents the force sufferers from heat, soon reappeared marching in close column with flapping sherp sleeves and having, as common to them all, a general glance of being now a match for any man or dancer in England or Ireland. Dick, fearing to lose ground in fancy's good opinion, retained his coat, like the rest of the thinner men, and Mr. Shiner did the same from superior knowledge. And now a further phase of revelry had disclosed itself. It was the time of night when a guest may write his name in the dust upon the tables and chairs, and a bluish mist pervades the atmosphere, becoming a distinct halo round the candles. When people's nostrils, wrinkles and crevices in general seem to be getting gradually plastered up, when the very fiddlers as well as the dancers get red in the face. The dancers, having advanced further still towards incandescence, and entered the cadaverous phase. The fiddlers no longer sit down but kick back their chairs and soar madly at the strings with legs firmly spread and eyes closed, regardless of the visible world. Again and again did Dick share his love's hand with another man and wheel round, then more delightfully promulgered in a circle with her all to himself, his arm holding her waist more firmly each time, and his elbow getting further and further behind her back till the distance reached was rather noticeable, and, most blissful, swinging to places shoulder to shoulder, her breath curling round his neck like a summer's effort that had strayed from its proper date. Threading the couples one by one, they reach the bottom. When there arose in Dick's mind a minor misery, lest the tune should end before they could work their way to the top again and have a new, the same exciting run down through. Dick's feelings on actually reaching the top in spite of his doubts were supplemented by a mortal fear that the fiddling might even stop at this supreme moment, which prompted him to convey a stealthy whisper to the far gone musicians to the effect that they were not to leave off till he and his partner had reached the bottom of the dance once more, which remark was replied to by the nearest of those convulsed and quivering men by a private nod to the anxious young man between two semi-quivers of the tune and a simultaneous, alright, aye aye, without opening the eyes. Fancy was now held so closely that Dick and she were practically one person. The room became to Dick like a picture in a dream, all that he could remember of it afterwards being the look of the fiddlers going to sleep as humming tops sleep by increasing their motion and hum, together with the figures of Grandfather James and old Simon Crumpler sitting by the chimney corner talking and nodding in dumb show and beating the air to their emphatic sentences like people near a threshing machine. The dance ended. Bwaah! said Trantor Dewey, blowing out his breath in the very finest stream of vapour that a man's lips could form. A regular tightner that one, sunnies! He wiped his forehead and went to the side or an ailmugs on the table. Well, said Mrs. Penny, flopping into a chair. My heart hadn't been in such a thumping state that uproar since I used to sit up on old Midsummer Eve's to see who my husband was going to be. And that's getting on for a few years ago now from what I've heard you tell, said the Trantor, without lifting his eyes from the cup he was filling. Being now engaged in the business of handing round refreshments, he was warranted in keeping his coat off still, though the other heavy men had resumed theirs. And a thing I never expected would come to pass if you'll believe me, came to pass then, continued Mrs. Penny. Ah, the first spirit ever I see on a Midsummer Eve was a puzzle to me when he appeared. A hard puzzle, so say I. So I should have fancied, said Elias Spinks. Yes, said Mrs. Penny, throwing her glance into past times and talking on in a running tone of complacent abstraction as if a listener were not a necessity. Yes, never was I in such a taking as on that Midsummer Eve. I sat up quite determined to see if John Wildway was going to marry me or no. I put the bread and cheese and beer quite ready as the witches book ordered and I opened the door and I waited till the clock struck twelve. My nerves all alive and so strained that I could feel every one of them twitching like bellwires. Yes, sure. And when the clock had struck, lo and behold I could see through the door a little small man in the lane. We are shoemakers apron on. Here Mr. Penny stealthily enlarged himself half an inch. Now, John Wildway, Mrs. Penny continued, who courted me at that time was a shoemaker, you see, but he was a very fair size man and I couldn't believe that any such a little small man had anything to do with me as anybody might. But on he came and crossed the threshold. Not John, but actually the same little small man in the shoemaker's apron. You needn't be so mighty particular about little and small, said her husband. In he walks and down he sits and oh my goodness made an eye fly upstairs. Body and soul hardly hanging together. Well, to cut a long story short by long and by late, John Wildway and I had a myth unparted and lo and behold the coming man came. Penny asked me if I'd go snacks with him and after I knew I was about almost the thing was done. I fancy you never knew better in your life, but I would be mistaken, said Mr. Penny in a murmur. After Mrs. Penny had spoken there being no new occupation for their eyes, she still let them stay idling on the past scenes just related, which were apparently visible to her in the centre of the room. Mr. Penny's remark received no reply. During this discourse the tranter and his wife might have been observed standing in an unobtrusive corner in mysterious closeness to each other, a just perceptible current of intelligence passing from each to each, which had apparently no relation whatever to the conversation of their guests, but much to their sustenance. A conclusion of some kind having at length been drawn, the palpable confederacy of man and wife was once more obliterated. The tranter marching off into the pantry humming a tune that he couldn't quite recollect and then breaking into the words of a song, of which he could remember about one line and a quarter. Mrs. Dewey spoke a few words about preparations for a bit of supper. That elder portion of the company which loved eating and drinking put on a look to signify that till this moment they'd quite forgotten that it was customary to expect supper on these occasions, going even further than this politeness of feature and starting irrelevant subjects, the exceeding flatness and forced tone of which rather betrayed their object. The younger member said they were quite hungry and that supper would be delightful though it was so late. Good luck attended Dick's love passes during the meal. He sat next fancy and had the thrilling pleasure of using permanently a glass which had been taken by fancy and mistake of letting the outer edge of the soul of his boot touch the lower verge of her skirt and to add to these delights the cat which had lain unobserved in her lap for several minutes crept across into his own touching him with fur that had touched her hand a moment before. There were besides some little pleasures in the shape of helping her to vegetables she didn't want and when it had nearly a lighted on her plate taking it across for his own use on the plea of waste not want not. He also from time to time sipped sweet sly glances at her profile noticing the set of her head, the curve of her throat and other artistic properties of the lively goddess who the while kept up a rather free not to say too free conversation with Mr. Shiner sitting opposite which after some uneasy criticism and much shifting of arguments back and forth in Dick's mind he decided not to consider of alarming significance. A new music greets our ears now said Miss Fancy alluding with the sharpness that her position as village sharpener demanded to the contrast between the rattle of knives and forks and the late notes of the fiddlers I and I don't know but what to sweet her in tongue when you get above forty said the tranter except in faith as regards father there never such a mortal man as he for tunes they do move his soul don't them father the eldest Jewie smiled across from his distant chair and assent to Ruben's remark Spaking of been moved in soul said Mr. Penny I shall never forget the first time I heard the dead March it was at poor Corporal Nyman's funeral at Casterbridge it fairly made my hair creep and fidget about like a flock of sheep ah it did souls and when they'd done and the last trump had sounded and the guns was fired over the dead hero's grave an icy cold drop a moist sweat hung upon my forehead and another upon my jawbone ah it is a very solemn thing well as to father in the corner there the tranter said pointing to old William who was in the act of filling his mouth he'd starved to death for music Satan now as much as when he was a boychapper fifteen truly now said Michael Mail clearing the corner of his throat in the manner of a man who meant to be convincing there's a friendly tie of some sort between music and eating he lifted the cup to his mouth and drank himself gradually backwards from a perpendicular position to a slanting one during which time his looks performed a circuit from the wall opposite him to the ceiling overhead then clearing the other corner of his throat once I was a setting in the little kitchen of the dream mariners at Casterbridge and a bit of dinner and a brass band struck up in the street such a beautiful band as that were I was setting, eating fried liver and lights I welcomed mind, I was and to save my life I couldn't help chewing to the tune band played six eight time six eight chores I willy nilly band plays common time with my teeth among the liver and lights as true as a hair beautiful to her I shall never forget that their band that's as tuneful a thing as ever I heard of said grandfather James with the absent gaze which accompanies profound criticism I don't like Michael's tuneful stories then said Mrs. Dewy they're quite cost to a person a decent taste old Michael's mouth twitched here and there as if he wanted to smile but didn't know where to begin which gradually settled to an expression that it was not displeasing for a nice woman like the Trantor's wife to correct him well now said Reuben with a decisive earnestness that sort of coarse touch that's so upsetting to Anne's feelings is to my mind a recommendation for it do always prove a story to be true and for the same reason I like a story with a bad moral my sonnies all true stories have a coarse touch or a bad moral depend upon if the storytellers could have got decency and good morals from true stories who'd have trouble to invent parables saying this the Trantor arose to fetch a new stock of cider, ale, mead and homemade wines Mrs. Dewy sighed and appended a remark ostensibly behind her husband's back though that the word should reach his ears distinctly was understood by both such a man as Dewy is nobody do know the trouble I have to keep that man barely respectable and did you ever hear to just now at supper time talking about taties with Michael in such a work folk way well it is what IU has never brought up to with our family it was never less than taters and very often potatoes outright mother was so particular and nice with us girls there was no family in the parish that kept themselves up more than we the hour of parting came fancy could not remain for the night because she had engaged a woman to wait up for her she disappeared temporarily from the flagging party of dancers and then came downstairs wrapped up and looking all together a different person from whom she'd been hitherto in fact to Dick's sadness and disappointment a woman somewhat reserved and of a phlegmatic temperament nothing left in her of the romping girl that she had seen but a short quarter hour before who had not minded the weight of Dick's hand upon her waist nor shirt the pearles of the mistletoe what a difference thought the young man whorey cynic pro tem what a miserable deceiving difference between the manners of a maid's life at dance and time and others look at this lovely fancy through the whole past evening touchable, squeezable, even kissable for whole half hours I held her so close to me that not a sheet of paper could have been shipped between us and I could feel her heart only just outside my own her life beating on so close to mine that I was aware of every breath in it a flit is made upstairs a hat and a cloak put on and I no more dare to touch her than thought failed him and he returned to realities but this was an indurable misery in comparison with what followed Mr. Shiner and his watch chain taking the intrusive advantage that ardent bachelors who were going homeward along the same road as pretty young women always do take of that circumstance came forward to assure fancy with a total disregard of Dick's emotions and intones which were certainly not frigid that he, Shiner, was not the man to go to bed before seeing his lady fair safe within her own door not he, nobody should say he was that and that he would not leave her aside an inch till the thing was done drown him if he would the proposal was assented to by Miss Day in Dick's foreboding judgment with one degree or at any rate an appreciable fraction of a degree of warmth beyond that required by a disinterested desire for protection from the dangers of the night all was over and Dick surveyed the chair she had last occupied looking now like a setting from which the gem has been torn there stood her glass and the romantic teaspoon of elder wine at the bottom that she couldn't drink by trying ever so hard in obedience to the mighty arguments of the Tranter his hand coming down upon her shoulder the while like a Naysmith hammer but the drinker was there no longer there were the nine or ten pretty little crumbs she had left on her plate but the eater was no more seen there seemed a disagreeable closeness of relationship between himself and the members of his family now that they were left alone again face to face his father seemed quite offensive for appearing to be in just as high spirits as when the guests were there and as for grandfather James who had not yet left he was quite fiendish and being rather glad they were gone really said the Tranter in a tone of placid satisfaction I've had so little time to attend to myself all the evening that I mean to enjoy a quiet meal now a slice of this here ham neither too fat nor too lean so and then a drop of this vinegar and pickles there that's it and I shall be as fresh as a lark again and to tell the truth my sonny my inside has been as dry as a lime basket all night I like a party very well once in a while said Mrs. Dewey leaving off the adorned tone she'd been bound to use throughout the evening and returning to the natural marriage voice but lord to such a sight of heavy work next day what with the dirty plates and knives and forks and dust and smother and bits kicked off your furniture and I don't know what all why a body could almost wish there were no such thing as Christmases ah dear she yawned till the clock in the corner ticked several beats she cast her eyes round upon the displaced dust laden furniture and sank down overpowered at the site well I be getting alright by degrees thank the lord for it said the tranter cheerfully through a mangled mass of ham and bread without lifting his eyes from his plate and chopping away with his knife and fork as if he were felling trees and you may as well go on up to bed at once and not bide here making such sleepy faces you look as long favoured as a fiddle upon my life an there you must be weary doubt is true I'll do the doors and draw up the clock and you go on or your be as white as a sheet tomorrow I don't know whether I shan't all know the matron passed her hand across her eyes to brush away the film of sleep until she got upstairs Dick wondered how it was that when people were married they could be so blind to romance and was quite certain that if he ever took to wife that dear impossible fancy he and she would never be so dreadfully practical and undemonstrative of the passion as his father and mother were the most extraordinary thing was that all mothers and fathers he knew were just as undemonstrative as his own End of Section 8 Recording by Rachel Linton Bristol, UK Section 9 of Under the Greenwood Tree This LibriVox recording is in the public domain Under the Greenwood Tree by Thomas Hardy Part 1, Chapter 9 Dick Calls at the School The early days of the year drew on and fancy, having spent the holiday weeks at home returned again to Melstock Every spare minute of the week following her return was used by Dick in accidentally passing the schoolhouse in his journeys about the neighbourhood but not once did she make herself visible A handkerchief belonging to her had been providentially found by his mother in clearing the rooms the day after that of the dance and by much contrivance Dick got it handed over to him to leave with her at any time he should be near the school after her return But he delayed taking the extreme measure of calling with it lest had she really no sentiment or interest in him it might be regarded as a slightly absurd errand the reason guessed and the sense of the ludicrous which was rather keen in her do his dignity considerable injury in her eyes and what she thought of him even apart from the question of her loving was all the world to him now But the hour came when the patience of love at 21 could endure no longer One Saturday he approached the school with a mild air of indifference and had the satisfaction of seeing the object of his quest at the further end of her garden trying by the aid of a spade and gloves to root a bramble that had intruded itself there He disguised his feelings from some suspicious looking cottage windows opposite by endeavouring to appear like a man in a great hurry of business who wished to leave the handkerchief and have done with such trifling errands This endeavour signally failed For on approaching the gate he found it locked to keep the children who were playing cross-stander in the front from running into her private grounds She did not see him and he could only think of one thing to be done which was to shout her name Miss Day The words were uttered with a jerk and a look meant to imply to the cottages opposite that he was now simply one who liked shouting as a pleasant way of passing his time without any reference to persons in gardens The name died away and the unconscious Miss Day continued digging and pulling as before He screwed himself up to enduring the cottage windows yet more stoically and shouted again Fancy took no notice whatever He shouted their third time with desperate vehemence turning suddenly about and retiring little distance as if it were by no means for his own pleasure that he had come This time she heard him came down the garden and entered the school at the back Footsteps echoed across the interior The door opened and three quarters of the blooming young school mistress's face and figure stood revealed before him a slice on her left hand side being cut off by the edge of the door Having surveyed and recognised him she came to the gate At sight of him had the pink of her cheeks increased lessened or did it continue to cover its normal area of ground It was a question meditated several hundreds of times by her visitor and after hours The meditation after wearying involutions always ending in one way that it was impossible to say Your hankerchief Miss Day I called with He held it out spasmodically and awkwardly Mother found it under a chair Oh, thank you very much for bringing it, Mr. Dewey I couldn't think where I had dropped it Now, Dick, not being an experienced lover Indeed, never before having been engaged in the practice of lovemaking at all except in a small schoolboy way could not take advantage of the situation An out came the blunder which afterwards cost him so many bitter moments and a sleepless night Good morning, Miss Day Good morning, Mr. Dewey The gate was closed, she was gone and Dick was standing outside unchanged in his condition from what he had been before he called Of course the angel was not to blame a young woman living alone in a house could not ask him indoors unless she'd known him better He should have kept her outside before floundering into that fatal farewell He wished that before he called he had realised more fully than he did the pleasure of being about to call and turned away End of Section 9, Recording by Rachel Linton, Bristol, UK Section 10 of Under the Greenwood Tree This LibriVox recording is in the public domain Under the Greenwood Tree by Thomas Hardy Beginning of Part II, Spring Chapter 1, Passing by the School It followed that as the spring advance Dick walked abroad much more frequently than had hitherto been usual with him and was continually finding that his nearest way to or from home lay by the road which skirted the garden of the school The first fruits of his perseverance were that on turning the angle on the nineteenth journey by that track he saw Miss Fancy's figure clothed in a dark grey dress looking from a high open window upon the crown of his hat The friendly greeting resulting from this encounter was considered so valuable an elixir that Dick passed still off on her and by the time he had almost trodden a little path under the fence where never a path was before he was rewarded with an actual meeting face to face on the open road before her gate This brought another meeting and another Fancy faintly showing by her bearing that it was a pleasure to her of some kind to see him there but the sort of pleasure she derived whether exaltation at the hope her exceeding fairness inspired or the true feeling which was alone Dick's concern he could not anyhow decide although he meditated on her every little movement for hours after it was made End of Chapter One Chapter Two A Meeting of the Choir It was the evening of a fine spring day the descending sun appeared as a nebulous blaze of amber light its outline being lost in cloudy masses hanging round it like wild locks of hair The chief members of Melstock Parish Choir were standing in a group in front of Mr Penny's workshop in the lower village they were all brightly illuminated and each was backed up by a shadow as long as a steeple the lowness of the source of light rendering the brins of their hats of no use at all as protection to the eyes Mr Penny's was the last house in that part of the parish and stood in a hollow by the roadside so that cartwheels and horses legs were about level with the sill of his shop window This was low and wide and was open from morning till evening Mr Penny himself being invariably seen working inside like a framed portrait of a shoemaker by some modern Maroney He sat facing the road with a boot on his knees and the awl in his hand only looking up for a moment as he stretched out his arms and bent forward at the pull when his spectacles flashed in the passer's face with a flash of flat whiteness and then returned again to the boot as usual Rose of lasts small and large stout and slender covered the wall which formed the background in the extreme shadow of which a kind of dummy was seen sitting in the shape of an apprentice with a string tied round his hair probably to keep it out of his eyes He smiled at remarks that floated in from without but was never known to answer them in Mr Penny's presence Outside the window the upper leather of a Wellington boot was usually hung pegged to a board as if to dry No sign was over his door in fact as with old banks and mercantile houses advertising in any shape was scorned and it would have been felt as beneath his dignity to paint up for the benefit of strangers the name of an establishment whose trade came solely by connection based on personal respect His visitors now came and stood on the outside of his window sometimes leaning against the sill, sometimes moving a pace or two backwards and forwards in front of it They talked with deliberate gesticulations to Mr Penny enthroned in the shadow of the interior I do like a man to stick to men who be in the same line of life A Sunday's anyway, but I do so Just like all the dunes of folk who don't know what a day's work is, that's what I say My belief is the man's not to blame to she, she's the bitter weed No, not altogether, he's a poor gorkhammer Look at his sermon yesterday His sermon was well enough, a very good guessable sermon Only he couldn't put it into words and speak it That's always the matter with a sermon, he hadn't been able to get it past his pen Well I, the sermon might have been good For it is true the sermon of old Ecclesiastes himself laying Ecclesiastes ink bottle before he got it out Mr Penny, being in the act of drawing the last stitch tight could afford time to look up and throw in a word at this point He's no spouter, that must be said I believe Tis a terrible muddle sometimes with the man as far as spout do go, said Spinks Well, we'll say nothing about that, the tranter answered For I don't believe he'll make a pen of the difference to weep or martel us here or hereafter Whether his sermons be good or bad, my sonnies Mr Penny made another hole with his all, pushed in the thread and looked up and spoke again at the extension of arms Tis's goings on souls, that's what it is He clenched his features for Herculane addition to the ordinary pull and continued The first thing he'd done when he came here was to be hot and strong about church business True, said Spinks, that was the very first thing he'd done Mr Penny, having now been offered the ear of the assembly, accepted it Seized stitching, swallowed an unimportant quantity of air as if it were a pill and continued The next thing he'd do is to think about altering the church until he found it would be a matter of cost and whatnot and then not to think no more about it True, that was the next thing he'd done And the next thing was to tell the young chaps that they were not on no account to put their hats in the christening font during service True, and then to his this, and then to his that, and now to his Words were not forcible enough to conclude the sentence and Mr Penny gave a huge pull to signify the concluding word Now tis to turn us out of the choir, neck and crop, said the Tranter after an interval of half a minute Not by way of explaining the pause and pull which had been quite understood but as a means of keeping the subject well before the meeting Mrs Penny came to the door at this point in the discussion Like all good wives, however much she was inclined to play the tory to her husband's wiggism and vice versa in times of peace She coalesced with him heartily enough in time of war It must be owned, he's not all there She replied in a general way to the fragments of talk she'd heard from indoors Far below poor Mr Grinnum, the late vicar I, there was this to be said for he, that you were quite sure he'd never come unbudgeten to see you Just as you were in the middle of your work and put you out with his fuss and trouble about you Never, but as for this new Mr Maybold, though he might be a very well-intended party in that respect He's unbearable, for as to sift in your cinders, scrub in your floors or empty in your slops Why, you can't do it! I assure you I've not been able to empty them for several days Unless I throw him up the chimney or out of winter For as sure as the sun you meet him at the door, come in to ask how you are And is such a confusing thing to meet a gentleman at the door when you're in the mess of washing Tis only for want of knowing better, poor gentleman, said the tranter His meaning's good enough I, your parson, comes by fate Tis heads or tails like pitch-half penny and no choosing So we must take in as he is, my sonnies, and thank God he's no worse, I suppose I fancy I've seen him looking across at Miss Day in a warmer way than Christianity asked for Said Mrs Penny musingly, but I don't quite like to say it Oh, no, there's nothing in that, said Grandfather William If there's nothing, we shall see nothing Mrs Penny replied, in the tone of a woman who might possibly have private opinions still Ah, Mr Grinnum was the man, said Bowman Why, he never troubled us with a visit from year's end to year's end You might go anywhere, do anything, you'd be sure never to see him Yes, he was a right sensible person, said Michael He never entered our door but once in his life, and that was to tell my poor wife I poor soul, dead and gone now as we all shall That as she was such an old-aged person and lived so far from the church He didn't at all expect her to come any more to the service And it was a very generous gentleman about choosing the Psalms and hymns of Sundays Confine me, says he, blare and scrape what ye will, but don't bother me And he was a very honorable man and not wanting any of us to come and hear him If we were all on end for John or Spray, or to bring the babies to be christened If they were inclined to squirreling, there's good in a man not putting a parish To unnecessary trouble And there's this here man, never letting us have a bit of peace But keeping on about being good and upright, tilt his carry to such a pitch As I never see the like of four or since No sooner he got here than he found the font wouldn't hold water As it hadn't for years off and on And when I told him that Mr Grinnum never minded it But used to spit upon his finger and christen them just as well I said, good heavens send for a workman in Egypt What place have I come to? Which was no compliment to us come to that Still, for my part, said old William Though he's arrayed against us I like the hearty borris norris ways of the new parson You ready to die for the choir? Said bowman reproachfully To stick up for the choir's enemy, William Nobody will feel the loss of our church work as much as I Said the old man firmly That you'd all know I've been in the choir man and boy ever since I was a child of eleven But for all that isn't in me to call the man a bad man Because I truly and sincerely believe and be a good young fellow Some of the youthful sparkle that used to reside there Animated William's eye as he uttered the words And a certain nobility of aspect was also imparted to him By the setting sun Which gave him a titanic shadow at least thirty feet in length Stretching away to the east in outlines of an imposing Magnitude, his head finally terminating Upon the trunk of a grand old oak tree Mables a hearty fellow enough, the tranter replied And was back to you, be you dirty or be you clean The first time I met him was in a drawing And though it didn't know me no more than the dead A-pass the time of day You do, he said, says he, not in his head A fine day Then the second time I met him was full buffin' town street When my breeches were tore into a long strength By getting through a cops of thorns and brambles For a short cut home-along And not wanting to disgrace the man By speaking in that state I fixed my eye on the weather cock To let him pass me as a stranger But no How'd you do, Reuben? Says he, write hearty and shut my hand If I'd been dressed in silver spangles from top to toe The man couldn't have been civiler At this moment, Dick was seen Coming up the village street And they turned and watched him End of section ten Recording by Rachel Linton Bristol, UK Section eleven of Under the Greenwood Tree This LibriVox recording is in the public domain Under the Greenwood Tree by Thomas Hardy Part two, chapter three A turn in the discussion I'm afraid Dick's a lost man, said the Tranter What? No, said Mail Implying by his manner that it was a far commoner thing For his ears to report what was not said Than that his judgement should be at fault I, said the Tranter Still gazing at Dick's unconscious advance I don't at all like what I see There's too many of them Looks out of the window without noticing anything Too much shining of boots Too much peeping round corners Too much looking at the clock Telling about clever things she did till you'd be sick of it And then, upon a hint to that effect A horrible silence about her I've walked the path once in my life And know the country neighbours And Dick's a lost man The Tranter turned a quarter round And smiled a smile of miserable satire At the setting new moon Which happened to catch his eye The others became far too serious At this announcement to allow them to speak And they still regarded Dick in the distance Twas his mother's fault The Tranter continued In asking the young woman to our party last Christmas When I eyed the blue frock And light heels of the maid I had my thoughts directly God bless thee, Dickie, my sonny I said to myself, there's a delusion for thee They seemed to be rather distant In manner last Sunday I thought Male tentatively observed As became one who was not a member of the family Aye, that's a part of the sickness Distance belongs to it Slinus belongs to it Queerest things on earth belongs to it There, to may as well come early as late As far as I know, the sooner begun The sooner over, for come it will The question I ask is Said Mr. Sphinx Connecting into one thread The two subjects of discourse As became a man learned in rhetoric And beating with his hand in a way which signified That the manner, rather than the matter Of his speech, was to be observed How did Mr. Maybold know She could play the organ? You know we had it from her own lips As far as lips go That she has never, first or last Breathe such a thing to him Much less that she ever would play In the midst of this puzzle Dick joined the party And the news which had caused such a convulsion Among the ancient musicians Was unfolded to him Well, he said Blushing at the allusion to Miss Day I know by some words of hers That she has a particular wish not to play Because she is a friend of ours And how the alteration comes I don't know Now, this is my plan Said the Tranter Reviving the spirit of the discussion By the infusion of new ideas As was his custom This is my plan If you don't like it, no harm's done We all know one another very well Don't we, neighbours? That they knew one another very well Was received as a statement which Though familiar, should not be omitted Then I say this And the Tranter, in his emphasis Slap down his hand on Mr. Sphinx's shoulder With a momentum of several pounds Upon which Mr. Sphinx tried To look not in the least startled I say that we all move down along Straight as a line To pass in labels When the clock has gone Six tomorrow night There, we one and all Stand in the passage Then one or two of us go in And speak to him, man and man And say, Parson Mabel Every tradesman Deliked to have his own way in his own workshop And Mel-Stock Church is yours Instead of turning us out Neck and crop, let us stay on till Christmas And we'll giveaway to the young woman Mr. Mabel and make no more do about it And we shall always be Quite willing to touch our hats When we meet you, Mr. Mabel, just as before That sounds very well Eh? Proper well in faith, Ruben Dewey And we won't sit down in his house To be looking too familiar When only just reconciled No need at all to sit down Just do our duty, man and man Turn around and march out He'll think all the more of us for it I hardly think Leif would better go with us Said Michael, turning to Leif And taking his measure from top to bottom By the eye He's so terrible silly That he might ruin the concern He don't want to do much Do ye, Thomas Leif? Said William He, he, no, I don't want to Only a teeny bit I be mortal of feared Leif That you'll never be able to tell How many cuts to take To sharpen a spar, said Mel I never had no head, never That's how it happened to happen They all assented to this Not with any sense of humiliating Leif By disparaging him after an open confession But because it was an accepted thing That Leif didn't in the least mind Having no head That deficiency of his Being an unimpassioned matter of parish history But I can sing my treble Continued Thomas Leif Quite delighted at being called a fool In such a friendly manner I can sing my treble As well as any maid Or married woman, either And better, and if Jim had lived I should have had a clever brother Tomorrow is poor Jim's birthday He'd have been twenty-six If he'd lived till tomorrow You always seem very sorry for Jim Said old William musingly Ah, I do Such a state of mother as it always have been She'd never have had to work To age if he'd continued strong Poor Jim What was his age when he died? Four hours and twenty minutes Poor Jim I was born as might be at night And I didn't last as might be till the morning No, I didn't last Mother called Jim On the day that would have been his Christmas day If he had lived And she's always thinking about him You see, he died so very young Well, it was rather youthful Said Michael Now, to my mind That woman is very romantical On the matter of children Said the Tranter His eyes sweeping his audience Ah, well she might be Said Leif She had twelve Regular one after another And they all except myself Died very young Either before they was born Or just afterwards Poor fellow too I suppose this want to come with us The Tranter murmured Well Leif, you shall come with us As yours is such a melancholy family Said old William rather sadly I never see such a melancholy family Is that a foreign my life? Said Ruben There's Leif's mother, poor woman Every morning I see her eyes Moaning out through the paints of glass Like a pot-sick winder flower And as Leif sings a very high treble And we don't know what we should do Without him for upper G We'll let him come as a trade, poor fellow I will let him come I believe Said Mr. Penny Looking up as the pull Now continued the Tranter Dispersing by a new tone of voice These digressions about Leif As to go in to see the parson One of us might call and ask And his meaning And it would be just as well done But it will add a bit of flourish To the cause if the choir waits As a body Then the great thing to mind is Not for any of our fellers to be nervous So before starting We'll one and all come to my house And have a rasher of bacon Then every man Jack A pint of cider into his inside Then we'll warm up an extra drop With some mead and a bit of ginger Everyone take a thimbleful Just a glimmer of a drop mind you No more to finish off his inner man And march off to parson Mabel Why sonnies? And not himself till he is fortified We are bit in a drop We shall be able to look any gentleman In the face then without shrink Or shame Mabel recovered from a deep Meditation and downward glance Into the earth in time to give Accordial approval to this Line of action and the meeting Adjourned End of section 11 Recording by Rachel Linton Bristol UK Section 12 of Under the Greenwood Tree This LibriVox recording is in the public domain Under the Greenwood Tree by Thomas Hardy Part 2 Chapter 4 The Interview with the Vicar At six o'clock the next day The whole body of men in the choir Emerged from the Trantos door And advanced with a firm step down the lane This dignity of march Gradually became obliterated as they went on And by the time they reached the hill Behind the vicarage A faint resemblance to a flock of sheep Been disowned in the venerable party A word from the Tranta However sat them right again And as they descended the hill The regular tramp, tramp, tramp Of the united feet was clearly audible From the vicarage garden At the opening of the gate There was another short interval Of irregular shuffling caused By a rather peculiar habit the gate had When swung open quickly Of striking against the bank And slamming back into the openest face Now keep step again will ye Said the Tranta It looks better and more Becomes the high class variant Which has brought us here Thus they advanced to the door At Reuben's ring The more modest of the group turned Aside, adjusted their hats And looked critically at any shrub That happened to lie in the line of vision Endeavouring thus to give a person Who chanced to look out of the windows The impression that they request Whatever it was going to be Was rather a casual thought Occuring whilst they were inspecting The vicar shrubbery and grass plot Than a predetermined thing The Tranta Who coming frequently to the vicarage With luggage, coals, firewood etc. Had none of the awe for its precincts That filled the breasts of most of the others Fixed his eyes firmly On the knocker during this interval Of waiting The knocker, having no characteristic Worthy of notice, he relinquished it For a knot in one of the door panels And studied the winding lines Of the grain Oh, sir, please Here's Tranta Jewy And old William Jewy And young Richard Jewy Oh, and all the choir too, sir Except the boys I come to see you Said Mr. Maybold's maid-servant To Mr. Maybold The pupils of her eyes dilating Like circles in a pond All the choir Said the astonished vicar Who may be shortly described As a good-looking young man with courageous eyes Timid mouth And neutral nose Abandoning his writing And looking at his parlour made after speaking Like a man who fancied He had seen her face before But couldn't recollect where And they look very firm And Tranta Jewy Do turn neither to the right hand Nor to the left But stare is quite straight And solemn with his mind made up Oh, all the choir Repeated the vicar to himself Trying by that simple device To trot out of his thoughts What the choir could come for Yes, every man Jack of them as I be alive The parlour made was rather local In manner, having in fact Been raised in the same village Really, sir, Tis thoughted by many In town and country That town and country Heavens! I had no idea That I was public property in this way Said the vicar His face acquiring a hue Somewhere between that of the rose And the peony It is thought in town and country that It is thought That you be going To get it hot and strong Excuse in my insubility, sir The vicar suddenly Recalled to his recollection That he had long ago settled it To be decidedly a mistake To encourage his servant Jane In giving personal opinions The servant Jane Saw by the vicar's face That he recalled this fact to his mind And removing her forehead from the edge of the door And rubbing away the indent That edge had made Banished into the passage Lord remarked Show them in, Jane A few minutes later A shuffling and jostling Reduced to his refined deformers Was compatible with the nature Of shuffles and jostles Was heard in the passage Then and earnest And prolonged wiping of shoes Conveying the notion That volumes of mud had to be removed But the roads being so clean That not a particle of dirt Those of all the elder members Being newly oiled and dicks brightly polished This wiping Might have been set down simply As a desire to show that respectable men Had no wish to take a mean advantage Of clean roads For curtailing proper ceremonies Next there came a powerful whisper From the same quarter Now, stand, stock still there My sunnies, one and all And don't make no noise Keep your backs close to the wall That company may pass in and out Easy if they want to Without squeezing through you And we too were enough to go in The voice was the tranters I wish I could go in too And see the sight Said a greedy voice That of leaf Tis a pity leaf is so terrible Silly or else he might Said another I never in my life Go into a study to have it out About the plan and sing in, pleaded leaf And I should like to see it just once Very well we'll let him come in Said the tranter You'll be like chips in porridge leaf Neither good nor hurt All right, my sonny come along And immediately himself Old William and leaf appeared in the room We took the liberty To come and see he, sir Said Ruben, letting his hat Left hand and touching with his right To the brim of an imaginary one on his head We've come to see, sir Man and man and no offence I hope None at all Said Mr. Maybold This old aged man Standing by my side is father William Dewey by name, sir Yes, I see it is Said the vicar Knodding aside to old William Who smiled I thought you might know Vile, the tranter apologised You see, he always wears his best clothes And his base vile of sundies And it do make a difference In an old man's look And who's that young man, the vicar said Tell the person your name Said the tranter turning to leaf Who stood with his elbows Nailed back to a bookcase Please, Thomas leaf Your holiness Said leaf, trembling I hope you'll Excuse his looks Being so very thin Continued the tranter deprecatingly Turning to the vicar again But it isn't his fault, poor feller He's rather silly by nature And could never get fat Though he's an excellent Treble, and so we keep him on I never had no head, sir Said leaf Eagley grasping at this opportunity For being forgiven his existence Ah, poor young man Poor young man Said Mr. Maybold Bless you, you don't mind it a bit If you don't, sir, said the tranter Assuringly, do ye leaf Not I, not a morsel Ha, I was afraid It might not please your holiness, sir That's all The tranter finding leaf Get on so very well Through his negative qualities Was tempted in a fit of generosity To advance him still higher Having him credit for positive ones He's very clever For a silly chap, good now, sir You never knowed A young feller keep his smock Rock so plain Very honest, too His ghastly looks is all There is against him, poor feller But we can't help our looks, you know, sir True, we cannot You live with your mother, I think, leaf The tranter looked at leaf To express that the most friendly Assistant to his tongue Could do no more for him now And that he must be left to his own resources Yes, sir, a widow, sir If brother Jim had lived She'd have had a clever son To keep her without work Indeed, poor woman Give her this half crown I'll call and see your mother Say thank you, sir The tranter whispered imperatively Towards leaf Thank you, sir, said leaf That's it, then Sit down, leaf, said Mr. Mabel Yes, sir The tranter cleared his throat After this accidental parenthesis About leaf, rectified His bodily position and began His speech Mr. Mabel, he said I hope you'll excuse my common way But I always like to look things In the face Mr. Mabel made a point of fixing This sentence in the vicar's mind By gazing hard at him At the conclusion of it And then out of the window Mr. Mabel, an old William Looked in the same direction Apparently under the impression That the things faces alluded to Were there visible What I have been thinking The tranter implied By this use of the past tense That he was hardly so discourteous To be positively thinking it then Is that the choir Aught to be geed a little time And not done away we till Christmas As a fair thing between man and man And Mr. Mabel I hope you'll excuse my common way I will, I will Till Christmas The vicar murmured Stretching the two words To a great length as if The distance to Christmas might be measured in that way Well I want you all to understand That I have no personal fault To find, and that I don't wish To change the church music by Forcible means, or in a way That should hurt the feelings of any parishioners Why I have at last spoken Definitely on the subject Is that a player has been brought under I may say Pressed upon my notice Several times by one of the church wardens And as the organ I brought With me is here waiting Pointing to a cabinet organ Standing in the study There is no reason for longer delay We made a mistake I suppose then sir But we understood The young woman didn't want to play particularly The tranter arranged His countenance to signify That he did not want to be inquisitive In the least No, nor did she Nor did I definitely wish her to Just yet, for your playing Very good, but As I said, one of the church wardens Has been so anxious for a change That as matters stand I couldn't consistently refuse My consent Now for some reason or other The vicar at this point seemed to have an idea That he had prevaricated And as an honest vicar It was a thing he determined not to do He corrected himself Blushing as he did so though Why he should blush was not known to Ruben Understand me rightly He said The church warden proposed it to me But I had thought myself Of getting Miss Day To play Each church warden might that be Who proposed her sir Excuse in my common way The tranter intimated By his tone that so far from being Inquisitive he did not even wish To ask a single question Mr. Shiner I believe My sonny Beg your pardon sir That's only a form of words of mine And slipped out accidental He nourishes enmity against us For some reason or another Perhaps because we played Rather hard upon a non-Christmas night Anyhow To certain shore That Mr. Shiner's real love for music Of a particular kind isn't his reason You've no more ear Than that chair That be I don't think you should conclude That because Mr. Shiner wants a different music He has any ill feeling for you I myself I must own Prefer organ music to any other I consider it most proper And feel justified in endeavouring To introduce it But then although other music is Better I don't say yours Is not good Well then Mr. Mabel Since deaths to be Will die like men Any day you name Excuse in my common way Mr. Mabel'd bowed his head All we thought was That for us old Ancient singers to be choked Off quiet at no time In particular as now In the Sundays after Easter Would seem rather mean In the eyes of other parishes sir But if we fell glorious With a bit of a flourish at Christmas We should have a respectable end And not dwindle away At some nameless poultry Second Sunday after Or Sunday next before something That's got no name of his own Yes, yes, that's reasonable I own it's reasonable You see Mr. Mabel We've got Do I keep you inconvenient long sir No, no We've got our feelings Father there especially The tramter in his earnestness Had advanced his person To within six inches of the vickers Certainly, certainly Said Mr. Mabel'd Retreating a little for convenience Of seeing You are all enthusiastic on the subject And I am all the more gratified To find you so A layer to see in lukewarmness Is worse than wrong-headedness itself Exactly sir In fact now Mr. Mabel Rubin continued more impressively And advanced a little closer still To the vicker Father there is a perfect figure Of wonder in the way Of being fond of music The vicker drew back a little further The tramter suddenly also Standing back a foot or two To throw open the view Of his father And pointing to him at the same time Old William moved Uneasily in the large chair And with a minute smile On the mere edges of his lips For good manners Said he was indeed very fond of tunes Now You see exactly how it is Rubin continued appealing To Mr. Mabel'd sense of justice By looking sideways into his eyes The vickers seemed to see how it was So well that the gratified tramter Walked up to him again With even vehement eagerness So that his waistcoat buttons Most rubbed against the vickers as he continued As to father If you or I Or any man or woman Of the present generation At the time music as a playing Was to shake your fist in father's face As maybe this way And say don't you be delighted with that music The tramter went back To where Leaf was sitting And held his fist so close To Leaf's face that the latter Pressed his head back against the wall All right Leaf my sonny I won't hurt you just to show My meaning to Mr. Mabel As I was saying If you or I or any man Was to shake your fist in father's face This way and say William Your life or your music He'd say my life Now that's father's nature All over and you see sir It must hurt the feelings Of a man of that kind For him in his base vial And neck and crop The tramter went back to the vickers front And again looked earnestly At his face True true Mr. Mabel answered Trying to withdraw his head and shoulders Without moving his feet But finding this impracticable Edging back another inch These frequent retreats Had at last jammed Mr. Mabel Between his easy chair And the edge of the table At the moment of announcement of the choir Mr. Mabel had just redipped The pen he was using At their entry instead of wiping it He'd laid it on the table with a nib overhanging At the last retreat His coat tails came in contact With the pen and down it rolled First against the back of the chair Thence turning a somersault Into the seat Thence falling to the floor with a rattle The vickers stooped For his pen and the tramter Wishing to show that however great Their ecclesiastical differences His mind was not so small as to let This affect his social feelings Stooped also And have you anything else You want to explain to me, Jewie? Said Mr. Mabel from under the table Nothing, sir And Mr. Mabel, you are Not offended I hope you see our desire is Reason, said the tramter From under the chair Quite, quite, and I shouldn't Think of refusing to listen To such a reasonable request, the vicker Replied. Seeing that Ruben Had secured the pen, he resumed His vertical position and added You know, Jewie, it is often said How difficult a matter it is To act up to your convictions And please all parties It may be said with equal truth That it is difficult for a man of any Appreciativeness to have convictions At all. Now In my case, I see right in you And right in China I see that violins Are good, and that An organ is good And when we introduce the organ It will not be that fiddles are bad But that an organ was better That you'll clearly understand, Jewie I will And thank you very much For such feelings, sir How the blood do get Into my head to be sure But down like that, said Ruben Who, having also risen to his feet Stuck the pen vertically In the ink stand, and almost Through the bottom, that it might not Roll down again under any circumstances Whatever. Now, the ancient body Of minstrels in the passage Felt their curiosities surging Higher and higher as the minutes passed Dick, not having much affection For their errand, soon grew Tired and went away in the Direction of the school. Yet Their sense of propriety would probably Have restrained them from any attempt To discover what was going on in the study Had not the vicar's pen Fall into the floor. The Conviction that the movement of chairs Etc., necessitated by The search, could only have been Caused by the catastrophe Of a bloody fight beginning Overpowered all other considerations And they advanced to the door Which had only just fallen Two. Thus When Mr. Maybold raised His eyes after the stooping He beheld glaring through the door Mr. Penny, in full Length portraiture Males face and shoulders above Mr. Penny's head Spinks forehead and eyes over Males crown, and a fractional part Of Bowman's countenance under Spinks' arm. Crescent shaped Portions of other head and faces Being visible behind these The whole dozen and odd eyes Bristling with eager inquiry Mr. Penny, as is the case Of the excitable bootmakers and men Seeing the vicar look at him And hearing no words spoken Thought it incumbent upon himself To say something of any kind Nothing suggested itself And he had looked for about half A minute at the vicar You'll excuse my name In of it, sir, he said Regarding with much commiseration The mere surface of the vicar's face But perhaps you don't know That your chin have bust out a bleeding Where you cut yourself a shave In this morning, sir. Now, that was the stooping Depend upon it, the tranter suggested Also looking with much interest At the vicar's chin. Blood always will bust out again If you hang down the member That's been bleeding. Old William raised his eyes And watched the vicar's face Old William raised his eyes And watched the vicar's bleeding chin Likewise and leaf advanced Two or three paces from the bookcase Absorbed in the contemplation Of the same phenomenon With parted lips and delighted eyes Dear me, dear me, said Mr. Maybold hastily Looking very red and brushing His chin with his hand Then taking out his handkerchief And wiping the place. That's it, sir. A little bit of fur off your hat Will stop it in a minute If it should bust out again. I'll let you have a bit off mine, Said Ruben, to show his good feeling. My hat isn't so new as yours, sir. And twunk hurt mine a bit. No, no, thank you. Thank you, Mr. Maybold Again nervously replied. To us rather a deep cut Seemingly, said Ruben, Feeling these to be the kindest And best remarks he could make. Oh, no, not particularly. Well, sir, your hand Will shake sometimes a-shaving And just when it comes into your head That you may cut yourself, there's the blood. I have been revolving In my mind that question Of the time at which we make the change, Said Mr. Maybold, And I know you'll meet me halfway. I think Christmas day Is much too late for me As the present time is too early for you. I think Christmas day Is much too late for me As the present time is too early for you. I suggest Mikkelmus all there about As a convenient time For both parties. For I think your objection to a Sunday Which has no name is not One of any real weight. Very good, sir. I suppose mortal men Mustn't expect their own way entirely. And I express in all our names That we'll make shift And be satisfied with what you say. We'll touch the brim of his imaginary hat again And all the choir did the same. About Mikkelmus, then, As far as your concern, sir. And then we make room For the next generation. About Mikkelmus, said the vicar. End of Section 12 Recording by Rachel Linton, Restore, UK Section 13 of Under the Greenwood Tree This LibriVox recording is in the public domain Under the Greenwood Tree by Thomas Hardy Part 2, Chapter 5 Returning Homeward I took it very well, then, Said Mail as they walked up the hill He behaved like a man I did so, said the Tranter And I'm glad we've let him know our minds And though beyond that We ain't got much by going To us worthwhile He won't forget it Yes, he took it very well Supposing this tree here Was passing Mabel And I stand in here And Litgert Stone Is father sitting in the easy chair Jewy, says he I don't wish to change the church Music in a possible way That was very nice to the man Even though words be wind Proper nice Out and out nice The fact is, said Reuben Confidentially, Tis how you take a man Everybody must be managed Queens must be managed For men want managing Almost as much as women And that's saying a good deal Tis, truly, murmured the husbands Passing Mabel and I Were as good friends all through it As if we'd been sworn brothers I, the man's well enough Tis what's put in his head That spoils him, and that's why We've got to go There's really no belief In half you hear about people Nowadays Bless ye, my sonnies Tisn't the parson's move at all That gentleman Over there The tranter nodded in the direction Of Shiner's farm Is at the root of the mischief What? Shiner? I And I see what the parson Don't see Why? Shiner is for putting forward That young woman that only last night I was saying was our thick, sweet heart But I suppose can't be And making much of her In the sight of the congregation And thinking he'll win her By showing her off Well, perhaps her will Then the music is second to the woman The other church warden Is second to Shiner The parson is second to the church Wardens And God Almighty is nowhere at all That's true And you see Continued Ruben At the very beginning it put me in a stud As to how to quarrel, William In short, to save my soul I couldn't quarrel We such a civil man Without belying my conscience Says he to father there In a voice as quiet as a lambs William You are an aged old man As all shall be So sit down In my easy chair And rest yourself And dang fathers up I could feign a laugh At thee, father, for they take it so Unconcerned at first And then looked so frightened When the chair bottom sunk in You see, said old William Hastening to explain I was scared to find the bottom Go away What should I know of spring bottoms And thought I had brought it down And, of course, as to breaking down A man's chair, I didn't wish Any such thing And neighbours When a feller ever so much Up for a myth To see his own father Sitting in his enemies' easy chair And a poor chap-like leaf Made the best of As if he almost had brains Why, it knocks all the wind Out of his sails at once It did out a mine If that young figure of fun Fanced day, I mean, said Bowman Hadn't been so mighty forward With showing herself off To Shiner and Dickon the rest Tis my belief we should never Left the gallery Tis my belief That though Shiner fired the bullets The person made him, said Mr. Penny My wife sticks to it That he's in love with her That's a thing We shall never know I can't unriddle her know-how They ought to be able To unriddle such a little child As she, the Tranter observed The littler the maid The bigger the riddle to my mind And coming of such a stock, too She may well be a twister Yes, Geoffrey Day Is a clever man if ever there was one Never says anything Not he, never You might live with that man, my sunnies A hundred years and never know There was anything in him Aye, one of these Up-country London ink bottlechaps Would call Geoffrey a fool He never find out what's in that man Never, said Spinks Close, ah He is close He can hold his tongue well That man's dumbness is wonderful to listen to There's so much sense in it Every moment of it Is brimming over with sound understanding I can hold his tongue very clever Very clever truly Echoed leaf Ah, to look at me I could see my thoughts Running round like the works of a clock Well, all will agree that the man Can halt well in his talk Be it a long time or be it a short time And though he can't expect his daughter To inherit his closeness She may have a few driblets of his sense And his pocket, perhaps Yes, the nine hundred pound That everybody says he's worth But I call it four hundred and fifty For I never believe more than half I hear Well, he've made a pound or two And I suppose the maid will have it Since there's nobody else But is rather sharp upon her If she's been born to fortune To bring her up as if not born for it And letting her work so hard Tis all upon his principle Long-headed fellow Ah, murmured Spinks To be sharper upon her If she were born for fortune And not to it I suffer from that affliction End of section 13 Recording by Rachel Linter in Bristol, UK Section 14 of Under the Greenwood Tree This LibriVox recording is in the public domain Under the Greenwood Tree by Thomas Hardy Part 2, Chapter 6 Yalbury Wood and the Keeper's House A mood of blitheness rarely experienced Even by young men was dicks On the following Monday morning It was the week after the Easter holidays And he was journeying along with smart the mare And the light-spring cart Watching the damp slopes of the hillsides As they streamed in the warmth of the sun Which at this unsettled season Shone on the grass With the freshness of an occasional inspector Rather than as an accustomed proprietor His errand was to fetch fancy And some additional household goods From her father's house in the neighbouring parish To her dwelling at Melstock The distant view was darkly shaded with clouds But the nearer parts of the landscape Were whitely illumined By the visible rays of the sun streaming down Across the heavy grey shade behind The tranter had not yet told his son Of the state of Shiner's heart That had been suggested to him By Shiner's movements He preferred to let such delicate affairs Write themselves Experience having taught him That the uncertain phenomenon of love As it existed in other people Was not a groundwork upon which A single action of his own life Could be founded Jeffrey Day lived in the depths Of Yalbury Wood Which formed portion of one of the States of the Earl of Wessex To whom Day was head gamekeeper Timber steward And general overlooker for this district The wood was intersected by the highway From Casta Bridge to London At a place not far from the house And some trees had of late years Been felled between its windows And the ascent of Yalbury Hill To give the solitary cottager A glimpse of the passes by It was a satisfaction to walk into The keeper's house even as a stranger On a fine spring morning Like the present A curl of wood smoke came from the chimney And drooped over the roof Like a blue feather in a lady's hat And the sun shone obliquely Upon the patch of grass in front Which reflected its brightness Through the open door and up the staircase Opposite, lighting up each riser With a shiny green radiance And leaving the top of each step In shade The windowsill of the front room Was between four and five feet from the floor Dropping inwardly to a broad low bench Over which as well as over the whole surface Of the wall beneath There always hung a deep shade Which was considered objectionable On every ground save one Namely that the perpetual Sprinkling of seeds and water By the caged canary above Was not noticed as an eyesore by visitors The window was set with thickly Leaded diamond glazing Formed especially in the lower Pains of knotty glass Of various shades of green Nothing was better known to fancy Than the extravagant manner In which these circular knots or eyes Distorted everything seen Through them from the outside Lifting hats from heads Shoulders from bodies Scattering the spokes of cart wheels And bending the straight fur trunks Into semicircles The ceiling was carried By a beam traversing its midst From the side of which Projected a large nail Used solely and constantly As a peg for Geoffrey's hat The nail was arched By a rainbow shaped stain Imprinted by the brim of the said hat When it was hung there dripping wet The most striking point About the room was the furniture This was a repetition upon inanimate objects Of the old principle introduced by Noah Consisting for the most part Of two articles of every sort The duplicate system of furnishing Ode its existence to the forethought Of fancy's mother Exercised from the date of fancy's Birthday onwards The arrangement spoke for itself Nobody who knew the tone of the household Could look at the goods without Being aware that the second set Was a provision for fancy When she should marry and have a house Of her own. The most noticeable instance was a pair Of green-faced eight-day clocks Ticking alternately Which was severally two-and-a-half Minutes and three minutes striking The hour of twelve. One proclaiming in Italian Flourishes, Thomas Wood As the name of its maker And the other arched at the top And altogether of a more cynical Appearance That of Ezekiel Saunders They were two departed Clockmakers of Casterbridge Whose desperate rivalry Throughout their lives was nowhere More emphatically perpetuated Than here at Geoffrey's These chief specimens of the marriage Provision were supported on the right By a couple of kitchen dresses Each fitted complete With their cups, dishes and plates In their turn followed by two Dumb-waiters Two family bibles Two warming pans And two intermixed sets Of chairs But the position last reached The chimney corner was, after all The most attractive side Of the parallelogram It was large enough to admit In addition to Geoffrey himself Geoffrey's wife Her chair and her work table Entirely within the line Of the mantle Without danger or even inconvenience From the heat of the fire And was spacious enough overhead To allow of the insertion Of wood poles For the hanging of bacon Which were cloaked with long shreds Of soot floating on the draft Like the tattered banners On the walls of ancient aisles These points were common To most chimney corners of the neighbourhood One feature there was Which made Geoffrey's fireside Not only an object of interest To casual aristocratic visitors To whom every cottage fireside Was more or less a curiosity But the admiration of friends Who were accustomed to fireplaces Of the ordinary Hamlet model This peculiarity Was a little window In the chimney back Almost over the fire Around which the smoke crept When it left the perpendicular course The window board Was curiously stamped with black circles Burnt thereon By the heated bottoms of drinking cups Which had rested thereafter Previously standing on the hot ashes Of the hearth for the purpose Of warming their contents The result giving to the ledge The look of an envelope Which has passed through innumerable post offices Fancy Was gliding about the room preparing dinner Her head inclining now to the right Now to the left And singing the tips and ends of tunes That sprang up in her mind like mushrooms The footsteps of Mrs. Day Could be heard in the room overhead Fancy went finally to the door Father Dinner A tall spare figure Was seen advancing by the window With periodical steps And the keeper entered from the garden He appeared to be a man Who was always looking down As if trying to recollect something He said yesterday The surface of his face was fissured Rather than wrinkled And over and under his eyes were folds Which seemed as a kind of exterior eyelid His nose Had been thrown backwards By a blow in a poaching fray So that when the sun was low And shining in his face People could see far into his head There was in him A quiet grimness Which would in his moments of displeasure Have become surliness Had it not been tempered by an honesty of soul And which was often wrong-headedness Because not allied With subtlety Although not an extraordinarily Taciturn man Among friends slightly richer than himself He never wasted words Upon outsiders And to his trapper Enoch His ideas were seldom conveyed By any other means than nods And shakes of the head Their long acquaintance with each other's ways And the nature of their labours Rended words between them Almost superfluous as vehicles of thought Whilst the coincidence Of their horizons And the astonishing equality Of their social views By startling the keeper from time to time Is very damaging to the theory Of master and man Strictly forbade any indulgence As courtesies Behind the keeper came Enoch Who had been assisting in the garden At the well-considered chronological distance Of three minutes An interval of non-appearance On the trapper's part Not arrived at without some reflection Four minutes had been found To express indifference to indoor arrangements And simultaneousness Had implied too great an anxiety About meals A little earlier than usual Fancy, the keeper said As he sat down and looked at the clocks That Ezekiel's saunders of thine Is tearing on a four Thomas Wood again I kept in the middle Between them, said Fancy Also looking at the two clocks Better, stick to Thomas Said her father There's a healthy beaten Thomas That would lead a man to swear By an offhand He is as true as the tang time How is it your stepmother Isn't here? As Fancy was about to reply The rattle of wheels was heard And, way, hey, smart! In Mr Richard Dewey's voice Rolled into the cottage From round the corner of the house Hello, there's Dewey's cart Come for thee, Fancy Dick driving, for time too Well, asked the lad To have pot luck with us Dick, on entering Made a point of implying To his general bearing That he took an interest in Fancy Simply as in one of the same race And country as himself And they all sat down Dick could have wished her manner Had not been so entirely free From all apparent consciousness Of those accidental meetings of theirs But he let the thought pass Enoch sat diagonally At a table, a far off Under the corner cupboard And drank his cider from a long Cup, having tall fir trees Done in brown on its sides He threw occasional remarks Into the general tide of conversation And with this advantage to himself That he participated In the pleasures of a talk Slight as it was at mealtimes Without saddling himself with the Responsibility of sustaining it Why don't your stepmother Come down, Fancy? said Geoffrey You'll excuse her, Master Dick She's a little queer sometimes Oh yes, quite Said Richard As if he were in the habit Of excusing people every day She belongs to that class of One kind that becomes second wives A rum class rather Indeed, said Dick With sympathy for an indefinite Something Yes, and is trying to a female Especially if you've been a First wife as she have Very trying it must be Yes, and you see Her first husband was a young Man who let her go too far In fact, she used to Kick up Bob's a dine at the Least thing in the world And when I'd married her and found it out I thought, thinks I Tis too late now to begin to curie And so I let her bide But she's queer Very queer at times I'm sorry to hear that Yes, there Wives be such a provoking Class of society Because though they be never right They be never more than half Wrong Fancy seemed uneasy under the Infliction of this household moralizing Which might tend to damage The airy-fairy nature that Dick As Maiden Shrewness told her Had accredited her with Her dead silence impressed Geoffrey with a notion that Something in his words did not agree With his educated ideas And he changed the conversation Did Fred Shiner Send the casker drink fancy? I think he did Oh yes, he did Nice solid feller Fred Shiner Said Geoffrey to Dick as he helped Himself to gravy bringing The spoon round to his plate by way Of the potato dish to obviate A stain on the cloth in the event Of a spill So Geoffrey's eyes had been fixed upon His plate for the previous four or five Minutes and in removing them He had only carried them to the spoon Which from its fullness in the Distance of its transit necessitated A steady watching through the whole Of the root Just as intently as the keeper's Eyes had been fixed on the spoon Fancy had been fixed on her Fathers without premeditation On the slightest phase of Fertility for there They were fastened This was the reason why Dick was sitting next To her on the right side And on the side of the table Opposite to her father Fancy had laid her right hand Lightly down upon the tablecloth For an instant and to her alarm Dick, after dropping his fork And brushing his forehead as a reason Flung down his own left hand Overlapping a third of Fancy's with it and keeping it There So the innocent Fancy instead of Pulling her hand from the trap Settled her eyes on her father's To guard against his discovery Of this perilous game of dicks Dick finished his mouthful Fancy finished her crumb And nothing was done Beyond watching Jeffery's eyes Then the hands slid apart Fancy's going over six Inches of cloth Dick's over one His eyes had risen I said Fred Shiner is a nice solid feller He repeated more emphatically He is Yes, he is, stammered Dick But to me he is little more Than a stranger Oh sure, now I known as well as any man can be known You knew known very well too, don't you Fancy? Jeffery put on a tone expressing That these words signified at present About one hundred times the amount of meaning They conveyed literally Dick looked anxious When you pass me some bread Said Fancy in a flurry The red of her face becoming slightly disordered And looking as solicitous as a human being Could look about a piece of bread I, that I will Replied the unconscious Jeffery I, he continued Returning to the displaced idea We are likely to remain friendly Mr. Shiner of the wheels to run smooth An excellent thing A very capital thing as I should say The youth answered with exceeding relevance Considering that his thoughts Instead of following Jeffery's remark Were nestling at a distance Of about two feet to his left The whole time A young woman's face Will turn the north wind Master Richard My heart if it won't Dick looked more anxious And was attentive and earnest at these words Yes, turn the north wind Added Jeffery after an impressive pause And though she's one of my own flesh and blood Will you fetch down a bit of raw milk cheese From pantry shelf Fancy interrupted As if she were famishing I, that I will child Child says I And Mr. Shiner only asking Last Saturday night Cheese you said fancy Dick controlled his emotion At these mysterious illusions to Mr. Shiner The better enabled to do so By perceiving that fancy's heart Went not with her father's And spoke like a stranger To the affairs of the neighbourhood Yes, there's a great deal to be said Upon the power of maiden faces In settling your courses He ventured as the keeper Retreated for the cheese The conversation is taking A very strange turn Nothing that I have ever done Warrant such things being said Murmured fancy with emphasis Just loud enough to reach Dick's ears You think to yourself Twas to be Cried Enoch from his distant corner By where filling up the vacancy Caused by Jeffrey's momentary absence And so you marry Our master, Dewey, in there's an entail Pray don't say such things, Enoch Came from fancy severely Upon which Enoch Relapsed into servitude If we be doomed to marry We marry If we be doomed to remain single We do, replied Dick Jeffrey had by this time Sat down again and he now Made his lips thin by severely Straining them across his gums And looked out of the window Along the vista to the distant Highway up Yalbury Hill That's not the case With some folk, he said at length As if he read the words on a board At the further end of the vista Fancy looked interested and Dick said No, there's that wife of mine It was her doom to be nobody's Wife at all in the wide universe But she made up her mind That she would and did it twice over Doom, doom is nothing Beside an elderly woman Quite a child in her hands A movement was now heard Along the upstairs passage And footsteps descending The door at the foot of the stairs Opened and the second Mrs. Day Looking fixedly at the table As she advanced towards it With apparent obliviousness of the presence Of any other human being than herself In short, if the table had been the personages And the person's the table Her glance would have been The most natural imaginable She showed herself to possess An ordinary woman's face Iron gray hair Hardly any hips And a great deal of cleanliness In a broad white apron string As it appeared upon the waist Of her dark stuffed dress People will run away With a story now I suppose She began saying that Jane Day's Tablecloths are as poor and ragged As any union beggars Dick now perceived that The tablecloth was a little the worse for wear And reflecting for a moment Concluded that people In step-mother language Probably meant himself On lifting his eyes he found that This day had vanished again upstairs And presently returned With an armful of new Damask linen tablecloths Folded square and hard as boards By long compression These she flanks down Into a chair Then took one, shook it out of its folds And spread it on the table By instalments, transferring The plates and dishes one by one From the old to the new cloth And I suppose They'll say too that she had a decent Night and fork in her house I shouldn't say any such ill-natured thing I am sure began Dick But Mrs. Day had vanished Into the next room Fancy appeared distressed Very strange woman, isn't she? Said Geoffrey, quietly going on with his dinner But it is too late to attempt curing My heart to so groad into her That would kill her to take it out I...she's very queer You'd be amazed to see What valuable goods we've got Stowed away upstairs Back again came Mrs. Day With a box of bright steel Horn-handled knives Silver-plated forks Carver and all complete These were wiped of the Preservative oil which coated them And then a knife and fork were laid down To each individual with a bang The carving knife and fork thrust into the meek dish And the old ones they had hitherto used tossed away Geoffrey placidly cut a slice With a new knife and fork And asked Dick if he wanted any more The table had been spread for the mixed Midday meal of dinner and tea Which was common among frugal country folk The parishioners about here Continued Mrs. Day Not looking at any living being But snatching up the brown delfty things Are the laziest, gossipous, poachiest J-list set of ever I came along And they'll talk about my teapot And teethings next I suppose She vanished with the teapot, teacups And saucers and reappeared with a tea Service in white china and a packet Wrapped in brown paper This was removed together with folds Of tissue paper underneath And a brilliant silver teapot appeared I'll help to put the things right Said fancy soothingly And rising from her seat I ought to have laid out better things I suppose, but here She enlarged her looks So as to include Dick I have been away from home a good deal And I make shocking blunders In my housekeeping Smiles and suavity were then dispensed All around by this bright little bird After a little more preparation and modification Mrs. Day took her seat at the head of the table And during the latter or tea division Of the meal presided with much composure It may cause some surprise to learn That now her vagary was over She showed herself to be an excellent person With much common sense And even a religious seriousness of tone On matters pertaining to her afflictions End of section 14 Recording by Rachel Linton, Bristol, UK Section 15 of Under the Greenwood Tree This LibriVox recording is in the public domain Under the Greenwood Tree by Thomas Hardy Part 2, Chapter 7 Dick makes himself useful The effect of Geoffrey's incidental illusions To Mr. Shiner was to restrain A considerable flow of spontaneous chat That would otherwise have burst from young Jewy Along the drive homeward And a certain remark he had hazarded to her In rather too blunt and eager a manner Kept the young lady herself Even more silent than Dick On both sides there was an unwillingness To talk on any but the most trivial subjects And their sentences rarely took a larger form Than could be expressed in two or three words Owing to fancy being later in the day Than she had promised The charwoman had given up expecting her Whereupon Dick could do no less than stay And see her comfortably tidied over The disagreeable time of entering And establishing herself in an empty house After an absence of a week The additional furniture and utensils That had been brought A canary and cage among the rest Were taken out of the vehicle And the horse was unharnessed And put in the plot opposite Where there was some tender grass Dick lighted the fire already laid An activity began to loosen Their tongues a little There said fancy We forgot to bring the fire-ions She had originally found in her sitting-room To bear out the expression nearly furnished Which the school manager had used in his letter to her A table, three chairs, a fender And a piece of carpet This nearly had been supplemented hitherto By a kind friend who had lent her fire-ions And crockery until she should fetch some from home Dick attended to the young lady's fire Using his whip-handle for a poker Till it was spoiled And then flourishing a hurdle-stick For the remainder of the time The kettle boils, now you shall have a cup of tea Said fancy, diving into the hamper she had brought Thank you, said Dick Whose drive had made him ready for some Especially in her company Well, here's only one cup and saucer as I breathe Whatever could mother be thinking about? Do you mind making shift, Mr. Dewey? Not at all, Miss Day Said that civil person And only having a cup by itself Or a saucer by itself Don't mind in the least Which do you mean by that? I mean the cup, if you like the saucer And the saucer if I like the cup Exactly, Miss Day Thank you, Mr. Dewey, for I like the cup, decidedly Stop a minute, there are no spoons now She dived into the hamper again And at the end of two or three minutes looked up and said I suppose you don't mind if I can't find a spoon Not at all, said the agreeable Richard The fact is the spoons have slipped down somewhere Right under the other things Oh yes, here's one, and only one You would rather have one than not, I suppose, Mr. Dewey Rather not, I never did care much about spoons Then I'll have it, I do care about them You must stir up your tea with a knife Would you mind lifting the kettle off that it may not boil dry? Dick leapt to the fireplace and earnestly removed the kettle There you did it so wildly that you made your hand black We always use kettle holders Didn't you learn how swiftly as far as that, Mr. Dewey? Well, never mind the soot on your hand, come here I am going to rinse mine, too They went to a basin she had placed in the back room This is the only basin I have, she said Turn up your sleeves and by that time my hands will be washed And you can come Her hands were in the water now Oh, how vexing, she exclaimed There's not a drop of water left for you unless you draw it And the well is I don't know how many furlongs deep All that was in the picture I used for the kettle in this basin Do you mind dipping the tips of your fingers in the same? Not at all And to save time I won't wait till you've done if you have no objection Thereupon he plunged in his hands and they paddled together It being the first time in his life that he had touched female fingers under water Dick duly registered the sensation as rather a nice one Really, I hardly know which of my own hands and which of yours They have got so mixed up together, she said, withdrawing her own very suddenly It doesn't matter at all, said Dick, at least as far as I am concerned There, no towel Who ever thinks of a towel till the hands are wet Nobody Nobody, how very dull it is when people are so friendly Come here, Mr. Dewey Now, do you think you could lift the lid of that box with your elbow And then, with something or other, take out a towel you will find under the clean clothes Be sure, don't touch any of them with your wet hands For the things at the top are all starched and ironed Dick managed, by the aid of a knife and fork, to extract a towel from under a muslin dress Without wetting the latter, and for a moment he ventured to assume a tone of criticism I fear for that dress, he said, as they wiped their hands together What, said Miss Dewey, looking into the box that the dress alluded to Oh, I know what you mean, that the vicar will never let me wear muslin Yes Well, I know it is condemned by all orders in the church's flaunting And unfit for common wear for girls who they're living to get But we'll see In the interests of the church, I hope you don't speak seriously Yes, I do, but we'll see There was a comely determination on her lip, very pleasant to a beholder who was neither bishop, priest nor deacon I think I can manage any vicar's views about me if he's under forty Dick rather wished she'd never thought of managing vicar's I certainly shall be glad to get some of your delicious tea, he said, in rather a free way Yet modestly has became one in a position between that of visitor and inmate And looking wistfully at his lonely saucer So shall I, now, is there anything else we want, Mr. Dewey? I really think there's nothing else, Miss Day She prepared to sit down, looking musingly out of the window at Smart's enjoyment of the rich grass Nobody seems to care about me, she murmured, with large lost eyes fixed upon the sky beyond Smart Perhaps Mr. Shiner does, said Dick in the tone of a slightly injured man Yes, I forgot, he does, I know Dick precipitately regretted that he had suggested, Shiner, since it had produced such a miserable result as this Our warrant, you'll care for somebody very much indeed another day, won't you, Mr. Dewey? She continued, looking very feelingly into the mathematical centre of his eyes Ah, our warrant I shall, said Dick, feelingly too, and looking back into her dark pupils, whereupon they were turned aside I meant, she went on, preventing him from speaking just as he was going to narrate a forcible story about his feelings I meant that nobody comes to see if I have returned, not even the vicar If you want to see him, I'll call at the vicarage directly, we've had some tea No, no, don't let him come here, whatever you do, whilst I'm in such a state of disarrangement Parsons look so miserable and awkward when one's house is in a muddle, walking about and making impossible suggestions in quaint academic phrases Till your flesh creeps and you wish them dead, do you take sugar? Mr. Maybold was at this instant seen coming up the path There, that's he coming, how I wish you were not here, that is, how awkward, dear, dear She exclaimed with a quick ascent of blood to her face and irritated with Dick rather than the vicar as it seemed Pray, don't be alarmed on my account, Miss Day, good afternoon, said Dick in a huff, putting on his hat and leaving the room hastily by the back door The horse was caught and put in, and on mounting the shaft to start he saw through the window the vicar Standing upon some books piled in a chair and driving a nail into the wall Fancy with a demure glance holding the canary cage up to him, as if she had never in her life thought of anything but vickers and canaries