But Jennifer found that it was more than a new chapter in her life—it was a new world into which she stepped at once: a world where everything was so much more than she ever dared to ask or think, that half the time she was like one in a dream, and shook herself, as she said, to see if she were really awake. Before she could get to her door, the lads came rushing out to meet her with the news that a pair of leggings had come for each of them, and a couple of billhooks; and there in all their pride they stood, ready to go forth at once and cut down all the forests of the world, if they had but the chance. And they must needs take their mother, hungry and tired as she was, away to the edge of the coppice, to show her the place that was cleared for their new cottage. Poor Jennifer sighed a prayer that the Lord would keep her humble; worthy of it all she felt she never could be.
At dawn the next day the boys were up—men in the estimate of themselves, and more than most men in their eagerness to get at the work, sweetened as the thought of it was by the fact that every stroke was to make the coming cottage their own. Breakfast to-day was a duty somewhat begrudged. They were impatient of its delay. At last they were off and at it, coat and waistcoat flung aside.
An old labourer had been sent on that first day to direct them in the work, for there are two ways even of cutting down a coppice—a right and a wrong—and of tying faggots. But he got there only to find a good half-day's work had somehow already been got through.
But Jennifer herself never did so little. To her it was all so new and strange that she could scarcely steady herself to do anything. In place of the silent fields there came the cheery voices of her lads, and the hacking of the billhook; then the bending of the tough boughs was new to her, and the binding of the faggots.
And underneath all was a certain glow of gladness that disturbed her. She was so near home, and was now her own mistress too, that she could not resist the temptation of going off to look after her "poor dear," as she called her husband.
And instead of hurrying back, she stayed to wrap him up, and then must needs bring him out along the lane and over the thick bed of dead leaves and through the rough undergrowth of the coppice to sit on the first faggot that she had bound. And there she sat beside him, while the sun peeped in at them between the young leaves; and the bold robin hopped up to look at them in wonder; and all the birds sang to them, and the sweet breath of things came with its benediction. Presently, as if ashamed of herself, she hurried off to join the busy sons. Yet before long there was Jennifer,—the hardest-working woman in the parish at other times—creeping slyly over to have a cheery word with her husband, and trying to amuse him by her skill in this craft, until her happy laughter rang out upon the silence, and even he tried to join. In a day or two, however, both mother and sons had got into the mysteries of the art; and went on steadily clearing the place, amazing themselves and everybody else at the speed with which the work was done. No hour seemed too early to begin, and none too late to leave off.
Soon there arrived the man who had bought the wood and faggots, and then began the further mystery of accounts, each faggot duly entered and each payment recorded. And Jennifer's pride found a new subject in the cleverness of her sons, for the minutest matters seemed to require the two heads to settle it.
But now it was that there came Jennifer's great trouble. Such joy could not fail to bring with it some bitterness somewhere.
Three pounds an acre was the price to be given for the clearing. And twenty acres came to nothing less than sixty pounds.
To Jennifer, who had not seen a bit of gold for years until she had given the half sovereign to the new chapel, it was really a terrible thing to have to do with so much money. The little broken teapot looked full, and the top of the dresser was no safe place in which to keep such treasures. She could not sleep at night, but must needs get up and go fumbling about to feel if it was all right. She dreaded to leave home, and went back three or four times to see to her husband, she said; but even he had to wait until she had looked at the teapot. The little that she spent upon the household was a mere nothing. She feared to carry so much all at once to her good friend to whom it was to be paid toward the new cottage. At last the lads were sent off to him with a message entreating him to come as soon as possible. "I shall go out of my mind or into the 'sylum," Jennifer declared, and began to wish once more for the sweet simplicity of the fields and her sixpence a day. However, that trouble was soon done with, and time, the kindly healer of our griefs, made even this tolerable.
The work was by no means done when the coppice was cleared. Roots and stumps had to be dug up, and the ground to be cleared for planting the potatoes, and the seed had to be bought; in all of which her good friend took as much interest as if it was his own, and more. And here was a new lot of accounts to be duly recorded. Jennifer was glad to leave all that to her boys, who sat every evening figuring away until it seemed to her, as she looked over their shoulders, that they did more business than all the rest of the world put together.
[Pg 91]
[Pg 92]
