'You need not think of b.a.l.l.s; for those lumps and swellings won't go off your face this week. That's not what pains me; but I'm thinking of what your papa will say to me when he sees you, miss.'

Whilst this amiable mistress and maid were in their adversity reviling one another, Susan, when she saw that she could be of no further use, was preparing to depart, but at the house-door she was met by Mr. Case.

Mr. Case had revolved things in his mind; for his second visit at the Abbey pleased him as little as his first, owing to a few words which Sir Arthur and Miss Somers dropped in speaking of Susan and Farmer Price.

Mr. Case began to fear that he had mistaken his game in quarrelling with this family. The refusal of his present dwelt upon the attorney's mind; and he was aware that, if the history of Susan's lamb ever reached the Abbey, he was undone. He now thought that the most prudent course he could possibly follow would be to _hush up_ matters with the _Prices_ with all convenient speed. Consequently, when he met Susan at his door, he forced a gracious smile. 'How is your mother, Susan?' said he. 'Is there anything in our house can be of service to her?' On hearing his daughter he cried out, 'Barbara, Barbara--Bab! come downstairs, child, and speak to Susan Price.' But as no Barbara answered, her father stalked upstairs directly, opened the door, and stood amazed at the spectacle of her swelled visage.

Betty instantly began to tell the story of Barbara's mishap her own way.

Bab contradicted her as fast as she spoke. The attorney turned the maid away on the spot; and partly with real anger, and partly with feigned affectation of anger, he demanded from his daughter how she dared to treat Susan Price so ill, 'when,' as he said, 'she was so neighbourly and obliging as to give you some of her honey? Couldn't you be content, without seizing upon the honeycomb by force? This is scandalous behaviour, and what, I a.s.sure you, I can't countenance.'

Susan now interceded for Barbara; and the attorney, softening his voice, said that 'Susan was a great deal too good to her; as you are, indeed,'

added he, 'to everybody. I forgive her for your sake.' Susan curtsied, in great surprise; but her lamb could not be forgotten, and she left the attorney's house as soon as she could, to make her mother's rosemary tea breakfast.

Mr. Case saw that Susan was not so simple as to be taken in by a few fair words. His next attempt was to conciliate Farmer Price. The farmer was a blunt, honest man, and his countenance remained inflexibly contemptuous, when the attorney addressed him in his softest tone.

So stood matters the day of the long-expected harpers' ball. Miss Barbara Case, stung by Susan's bees, could not, after all her manoeuvres, go with Mrs. Strathspey to the ball. The ballroom was filled early in the evening. There was a numerous a.s.sembly. The harpers, who contended for the prize, were placed under the music-gallery at the lower end of the room. Amongst them was our old blind friend, who, as he was not so well clad as his compet.i.tors, seemed to be disdained by many of the spectators. Six ladies and six gentlemen were now appointed to be judges of the performance. They were seated in a semicircle, opposite to the harpers. The Miss Somerses, who were fond of music, were amongst the ladies in the semicircle; and the prize was lodged in the hands of Sir Arthur. There was now silence. The first harp sounded, and as each musician tried his skill, the audience seemed to think that each deserved the prize. The old blind man was the last. He tuned his instrument; and such a simple pathetic strain was heard as touched every heart. All were fixed in delighted attention; and when the music ceased, the silence for some moments continued.

The silence was followed by a universal buzz of applause. The judges were unanimous in their opinions, and it was declared that the old blind harper, who played the last, deserved the prize.

The simple pathetic air which won the suffrages of the whole a.s.sembly, was his own composition. He was pressed to give the words belonging to the music; and at last he modestly offered to repeat them, as he could not see to write. Miss Somers' ready pencil was instantly produced; and the old harper dictated the words of his ballad, which he called--_Susan's Lamentation for her Lamb_.

Miss Somers looked at her brother from time to time, as she wrote; and Sir Arthur, as soon as the old man had finished, took him aside, and asked him some questions, which brought the whole history of Susan's lamb and of Attorney Case's cruelty to light.

The attorney himself was present when the harper began to dictate his ballad. His colour, as Sir Arthur steadily looked at him, varied continually; till at length, when he heard the words 'Susan's Lamentation for her Lamb,' he suddenly shrank back, skulked through the crowd, and disappeared. We shall not follow him; we had rather follow our old friend, the victorious harper.

No sooner had he received the ten guineas, his well-merited prize, than he retired to a small room belonging to the people of the house, asked for pen, ink, and paper, and dictated, in a low voice, to his boy, who was a tolerably good scribe, a letter, which he ordered him to put directly into the Shrewsbury post-office. The boy ran with the letter to the post-office. He was but just in time, for the postman's horn was sounding.

The next morning, when Farmer Price, his wife, and Susan, were sitting together, reflecting that his week's leave of absence was nearly at an end, and that the money was not yet made up for John Simpson, the subst.i.tute, a knock was heard at the door, and the person who usually delivered the letters in the village put a letter into Susan's hand, saying, 'A penny, if you please--here's a letter for your father.'

'For me!' said Farmer Price; 'here's the penny then; but who can it be from, I wonder? Who can think of writing to me, in this world?' He tore open the letter; but the hard name at the bottom of the page puzzled him--'_your obliged friend_, Llewellyn.'

'And what's this?' said he, opening a paper that was enclosed in the letter. 'It's a song, seemingly; it must be somebody that has a mind to make an April fool of me.' 'But it is not April, it is May, father,'

said Susan. 'Well, let us read the letter, and we shall come to the truth all in good time.'

Farmer Price sat down in his own chair, for he could not read entirely to his satisfaction in any other, and read as follows:--

'MY WORTHY FRIEND--I am sure you will be glad to hear that I have had good success this night. I have won the ten guinea prize, and for that I am in a great measure indebted to your sweet daughter Susan; as you will see by a little ballad I enclose for her. Your hospitality to me has afforded to me an opportunity of learning some of your family history. You do not, I hope, forget that I was present when you were counting the treasure in Susan's little purse, and that I heard for what purpose it was all destined. You have not, I know, yet made up the full sum for your subst.i.tute, John Simpson; therefore do me the favour to use the five guinea banknote which you will find within the ballad. You shall not find me as hard a creditor as Attorney Case.

Pay me the money at your own convenience. If it is never convenient to you to pay it, I shall never ask it. I shall go my rounds again through this country, I believe, about this time next year, and will call to see how you do, and to play the new tune for Susan and the dear little boys.

'I should just add, to set you hearts at rest about the money, that it does not distress me at all to lend it to you. I am not quite so poor as I appear to be. But it is my humour to go about as I do. I see more of the world under my tattered garb than, perhaps, I should ever see in a better dress. There are many of my profession who are of the same mind as myself in this respect; and we are glad, when it lies in our way, to do any kindness to such a worthy family as yours. So, fare ye well.--Your obliged Friend, LLEWELLYN.'

Susan now, by her father's desire, opened the ballad. He picked up the five-guinea banknote, whilst she read, with surprise, 'Susan's Lamentation for her Lamb.' Her mother leaned over her shoulder to read the words; but they were interrupted, before they had finished the first stanza, by another knock at the door. It was not the postman with another letter. It was Sir Arthur and his sisters.

They came with an intention, which they were much disappointed to find that the old harper had rendered vain--they came to lend the farmer and his good family the money to pay for his subst.i.tute.

'But, since we are here,' said Sir Arthur, 'let me do my own business, which I had like to have forgotten. Mr. Price, will you come out with me, and let me show you a piece of your land, through which I want to make a road? Look there,' said Sir Arthur, pointing to the spot; 'I am laying out a ride round my estate, and that bit of land of yours stops me.'

'Why, sir,' said Price, 'the land's mine, to be sure, for that matter; but I hope you don't look upon me to be that sort of person that would be stiff about a trifle or so.'

'The fact is,' said Sir Arthur, 'I had heard you were a litigious, pig-headed fellow; but you do not seem to deserve this character.'

'Hope not, sir,' said the farmer; 'but about the matter of the land, I don't want to take any advantage of your wishing for it. You are welcome to it; and I leave it to you to find me out another bit of land convenient to me that will be worth neither more nor less; or else to make up the value to me some way or other. I need say no more about it.'

'I hear something,' continued Sir Arthur, after a short silence--'I hear something, Mr. Price, of a _flaw_ in your lease. I would not speak to you about it whilst we were bargaining about your land, lest I should overawe you; but, tell me, what is this _flaw_?'

'In truth, and the truth is the fittest thing to be spoken at all times,' said the farmer, 'I didn't know myself what a _flaw_, as they call it, meant, till I heard of the word from Attorney Case; and, I take it, a _flaw_ is neither more nor less than a mistake, as one should say.

Now, by reason a man does not make a mistake on purpose, it seems to me to be the fair thing that if a man finds out his mistake, he might set it right; but Attorney Case says this is not law; and I've no more to say. The man who drew up my lease made a mistake; and if I must suffer for it, I must,' said the farmer. 'However, I can show you, Sir Arthur, just for my own satisfaction and yours, a few lines of a memorandum on a slip of paper, which was given me by your relation, the gentleman who lived here before, and let me my farm. You'll see, by that bit of paper, what was meant; but the attorney says the paper's not worth a b.u.t.ton in a court of justice, and I don't understand these things. All I understand is the common honesty of the matter. I've no more to say.'

'This attorney, whom you speak of so often,' said Sir Arthur, 'you seem to have some quarrel with. Now, would you tell me frankly what is the matter between----?'

'The matter between us, then,' said Price, 'is a little bit of ground, not worth much, that is there open to the lane at the end of Mr. Case's garden, and he wanted to take it in. Now I told him my mind, that it belonged to the parish, and that I never would willingly give my consent to his cribbing it in that way. Sir, I was the more loth to see it shut into his garden, which, moreover, is large enough of all conscience without it, because you must know, Sir Arthur, the children in our village are fond of making a little play-green of it; and they have a custom of meeting on May-day at a hawthorn that stands in the middle of it, and altogether I was very loth to see 'em turned out of it by those who have no right.'

'Let us go and see this nook,' said Sir Arthur. 'It is not far off, is it?'

'Oh no, sir, just hard by here.'

When they got to the ground, Mr. Case, who saw them walking together, was in a hurry to join them, that he might put a stop to any explanations. Explanations were things of which he had a great dread; but, fortunately, he was upon this occasion a little too late.

'Is this the nook in dispute?' said Sir Arthur. 'Yes; this is the whole thing,' said Price. 'Why, Sir Arthur,' interposed the politic attorney, with an a.s.sumed air of generosity, 'don't let us talk any more about it.

Let it belong to whom it will, I give it up to you.'

'So great a lawyer, Mr. Case, as you are,' replied Sir Arthur, 'must know that a man cannot give up that to which he has no legal t.i.tle; and in this case it is impossible that, with the best intentions to oblige me in the world, you can give up this bit of land to me, because it is mine already, as I can convince you effectually by a map of the adjoining land, which I have fortunately safe amongst my papers. This piece of ground belonged to the farm on the opposite side of the road, and it was cut off when the lane was made.'

'Very possibly. I daresay you are quite correct; you must know best,'

said the attorney, trembling for the agency.

'Then,' said Sir Arthur, 'Mr. Price, you will observe that I now promise this little green to the children for a playground; and I hope they may gather hawthorn many a May-day at this their favourite bush.' Mr. Price bowed low, which he seldom did, even when he received a favour himself.

'And now, Mr. Case,' said Sir Arthur, turning to the attorney, who did not know which way to look, 'you sent me a lease to look over.'

'Ye--ye--yes,' stammered Mr. Case. 'I thought it my duty to do so; not out of any malice or ill-will to this good man.'

'You have done him no injury,' said Sir Arthur coolly. 'I am ready to make him a new lease, whenever he pleases, of his farm, and I shall be guided by a memorandum of the original bargain, which he has in his possession. I hope I never shall take an unfair advantage of any one.'

'Heaven forbid, sir,' said the attorney, sanctifying his face, 'that I should suggest the taking an _unfair_ advantage of any man, rich or poor; but to break a bad lease is not taking an unfair advantage.'

'You really think so?' said Sir Arthur. 'Certainly I do, and I hope I have not hazarded your good opinion by speaking my mind concerning the flaw so plainly. I always understood that there could be nothing ungentlemanlike, in the way of business, in taking advantage of the flaw in a lease.'

'Now,' said Sir Arthur, 'you have p.r.o.nounced judgment _undesignedly_ in your own case. You intended to send me this poor man's lease; but your son, by some mistake, brought me your own, and I have discovered a fatal error in it.' 'A fatal error!' said the alarmed attorney. 'Yes, sir,'

said Sir Arthur, pulling the lease out of his pocket. 'Here it is. You will observe that it is neither signed nor sealed by the grantor.' 'But you won't take advantage of me, surely, Sir Arthur?' said Mr. Case, forgetting his own principles. 'I shall not take advantage of you, as you would have taken of this honest man. In both cases I shall be guided by memoranda which I have in my possession. I shall not, Mr. Case, defraud you of one shilling of your property. I am ready, at a fair valuation, to pay the exact value of your house and land; but upon this condition--that you quit the parish within one month!'

Attorney Case was thus compelled to submit to the hard necessity of the case, for he knew that he could not legally resist. Indeed he was glad to be let off so easily; and he bowed and sneaked away, secretly comforting himself with the hope that when they came to the valuation of the house and land he should be the gainer, perhaps, of a few guineas.

His reputation he justly held very cheap.

'You are a scholar; you write a good hand; you can keep accounts, cannot you?' said Sir Arthur to Mr. Price, as they walked home towards the cottage. 'I think I saw a bill of your little daughter's drawing out the other day, which was very neatly written. Did you teach her to write?'

'No, sir,' said Price, 'I can't say I did _that_; for she mostly taught it herself; but I taught her a little arithmetic, as far as I knew, on our winter nights, when I had nothing better to do.'

'Your daughter shows that she has been well taught,' said Sir Arthur; 'and her good conduct and good character speak strongly in favour of her parents.'

'You are very good, very good indeed, sir, to speak in this sort of way,' said the delighted father.