The Mill on the Floss (15 page)

The only alleviating circumstance in a
tête-à-tête
with
uncle Pullet was that he kept a variety of lozenges and
peppermint-drops about his person, and when at a loss for
conversation, he filled up the void by proposing a mutual solace of
this kind.

"Do you like peppermints, young sir?" required only a tacit
answer when it was accompanied by a presentation of the article in
question.

The appearance of the little girls suggested to uncle Pullet the
further solace of small sweet-cakes, of which he also kept a stock
under lock and key for his own private eating on wet days; but the
three children had no sooner got the tempting delicacy between
their fingers, than aunt Pullet desired them to abstain from eating
it till the tray and the plates came, since with those crisp cakes
they would make the floor "all over" crumbs. Lucy didn't mind that
much, for the cake was so pretty, she thought it was rather a pity
to eat it; but Tom, watching his opportunity while the elders were
talking, hastily stowed it in his mouth at two bites, and chewed it
furtively. As for Maggie, becoming fascinated, as usual, by a print
of Ulysses and Nausicaa, which uncle Pullet had bought as a "pretty
Scripture thing," she presently let fall her cake, and in an
unlucky movement crushed it beneath her foot,–a source of so much
agitation to aunt Pullet and conscious disgrace to Maggie, that she
began to despair of hearing the musical snuff-box to-day, till,
after some reflection, it occurred to her that Lucy was in high
favor enough to venture on asking for a tune. So she whispered to
Lucy; and Lucy, who always did what she was desired to do, went up
quietly to her uncle's knee, and blush-all over her neck while she
fingered her necklace, said, "Will you please play us a tune,
uncle?"

Lucy thought it was by reason of some exceptional talent in
uncle Pullet that the snuff-box played such beautiful tunes, and
indeed the thing was viewed in that light by the majority of his
neighbors in Garum. Mr. Pullet had
bought
the box, to
begin with, and he understood winding it up, and knew which tune it
was going to play beforehand; altogether the possession of this
unique "piece of music" was a proof that Mr. Pullet's character was
not of that entire nullity which might otherwise have been
attributed to it. But uncle Pullet, when entreated to exhibit his
accomplishment, never depreciated it by a too-ready consent. "We'll
see about it," was the answer he always gave, carefully abstaining
from any sign of compliance till a suitable number of minutes had
passed. Uncle Pullet had a programme for all great social
occasions, and in this way fenced himself in from much painful
confusion and perplexing freedom of will.

Perhaps the suspense did heighten Maggie's enjoyment when the
fairy tune began; for the first time she quite forgot that she had
a load on her mind, that Tom was angry with her; and by the time
"Hush, ye pretty warbling choir," had been played, her face wore
that bright look of happiness, while she sat immovable with her
hands clasped, which sometimes comforted her mother with the sense
that Maggie could look pretty now and then, in spite of her brown
skin. But when the magic music ceased, she jumped up, and running
toward Tom, put her arm round his neck and said, "Oh, Tom, isn't it
pretty?"

Lest you should think it showed a revolting insensibility in Tom
that he felt any new anger toward Maggie for this uncalled-for and,
to him, inexplicable caress, I must tell you that he had his glass
of cowslip wine in his hand, and that she jerked him so as to make
him spill half of it. He must have been an extreme milksop not to
say angrily, "Look there, now!" especially when his resentment was
sanctioned, as it was, by general disapprobation of Maggie's
behavior.

"Why don't you sit still, Maggie?" her mother said
peevishly.

"Little gells mustn't come to see me if they behave in that
way," said aunt Pullet.

"Why, you're too rough, little miss," said uncle Pullet.

Poor Maggie sat down again, with the music all chased out of her
soul, and the seven small demons all in again.

Mrs. Tulliver, foreseeing nothing but misbehavior while the
children remained indoors, took an early opportunity of suggesting
that, now they were rested after their walk, they might go and play
out of doors; and aunt Pullet gave permission, only enjoining them
not to go off the paved walks in the garden, and if they wanted to
see the poultry fed, to view them from a distance on the
horse-block; a restriction which had been imposed ever since Tom
had been found guilty of running after the peacock, with an
illusory idea that fright would make one of its feathers drop
off.

Mrs. Tulliver's thoughts had been temporarily diverted from the
quarrel with Mrs. Glegg by millinery and maternal cares, but now
the great theme of the bonnet was thrown into perspective, and the
children were out of the way, yesterday's anxieties recurred.

"It weighs on my mind so as never was," she said, by way of
opening the subject, "sister Glegg's leaving the house in that way.
I'm sure I'd no wish t' offend a sister."

"Ah," said aunt Pullet, "there's no accounting for what Jane
'ull do. I wouldn't speak of it out o' the family, if it wasn't to
Dr. Turnbull; but it's my belief Jane lives too low. I've said so
to Pullet often and often, and he knows it."

"Why, you said so last Monday was a week, when we came away from
drinking tea with 'em," said Mr. Pullet, beginning to nurse his
knee and shelter it with his pocket-hand-kerchief, as was his way
when the conversation took an interesting turn.

"Very like I did," said Mrs. Pullet, "for you remember when I
said things, better than I can remember myself. He's got a
wonderful memory, Pullet has," she continued, looking pathetically
at her sister. "I should be poorly off if he was to have a stroke,
for he always remembers when I've got to take my doctor's stuff;
and I'm taking three sorts now."

"There's the 'pills as before' every other night, and the new
drops at eleven and four, and the 'fervescing mixture 'when
agreeable,'" rehearsed Mr. Pullet, with a punctuation determined by
a lozenge on his tongue.

"Ah, perhaps it 'ud be better for sister Glegg if
she'd
go to the doctor sometimes, instead o' chewing Turkey rhubard
whenever there's anything the matter with her," said Mrs. Tulliver,
who naturally saw the wide subject of medicine chiefly in relation
to Mrs. Glegg.

"It's dreadful to think on," said aunt Pullet, raising her hands
and letting them fall again, "people playing with their own insides
in that way! And it's flying i' the face o' Providence; for what
are the doctors for, if we aren't to call 'em in? And when folks
have got the money to pay for a doctor, it isn't respectable, as
I've told Jane many a time. I'm ashamed of acquaintance knowing
it."

"Well,
we've
no call to be ashamed," said Mr. Pullet,
"for Doctor Turnbull hasn't got such another patient as you i' this
parish, now old Mrs. Sutton's gone."

"Pullet keeps all my physic-bottles, did you know, Bessy?" said
Mrs. Pullet. "He won't have one sold. He says it's nothing but
right folks should see 'em when I'm gone. They fill two o' the long
store-room shelves a'ready; but," she added, beginning to cry a
little, "it's well if they ever fill three. I may go before I've
made up the dozen o' these last sizes. The pill-boxes are in the
closet in my room,–you'll remember that, sister,–but there's
nothing to show for the boluses, if it isn't the bills."

"Don't talk o' your going, sister," said Mrs. Tulliver; "I
should have nobody to stand between me and sister Glegg if you was
gone. And there's nobody but you can get her to make it up with Mr.
Tulliver, for sister Deane's never o' my side, and if she was, it's
not to be looked for as she can speak like them as have got an
independent fortin."

"Well, your husband
is
awk'ard, you know, Bessy," said
Mrs. Pullet, good-naturedly ready to use her deep depression on her
sister's account as well as her own. "He's never behaved quite so
pretty to our family as he should do, and the children take after
him,–the boy's very mischievous, and runs away from his aunts and
uncles, and the gell's rude and brown. It's your bad luck, and I'm
sorry for you, Bessy; for you was allays my favorite sister, and we
allays liked the same patterns."

"I know Tulliver's hasty, and says odd things," said Mrs.
Tulliver, wiping away one small tear from the corner of her eye;
"but I'm sure he's never been the man, since he married me, to
object to my making the friends o' my side o' the family welcome to
the house."

"
I
don't want to make the worst of you, Bessy," said
Mrs. Pullet, compassionately, "for I doubt you'll have trouble
enough without that; and your husband's got that poor sister and
her children hanging on him,–and so given to lawing, they say. I
doubt he'll leave you poorly off when he dies. Not as I'd have it
said out o' the family."

This view of her position was naturally far from cheering to
Mrs. Tulliver. Her imagination was not easily acted on, but she
could not help thinking that her case was a hard one, since it
appeared that other people thought it hard.

"I'm sure, sister, I can't help myself," she said, urged by the
fear lest her anticipated misfortunes might be held retributive, to
take comprehensive review of her past conduct. "There's no woman
strives more for her children; and I'm sure at scouring-time this
Lady-day as I've had all the bedhangings taken down I did as much
as the two gells put together; and there's the last elder-flower
wine I've made–beautiful! I allays offer it along with the sherry,
though sister Glegg will have it I'm so extravagant; and as for
liking to have my clothes tidy, and not go a fright about the
house, there's nobody in the parish can say anything against me in
respect o' backbiting and making mischief, for I don't wish anybody
any harm; and nobody loses by sending me a porkpie, for my pies are
fit to show with the best o' my neighbors'; and the linen's so in
order as if I was to die to-morrow I shouldn't be ashamed. A woman
can do no more nor she can."

"But it's all o' no use, you know, Bessy," said Mrs. Pullet,
holding her head on one side, and fixing her eyes pathetically on
her sister, "if your husband makes away with his money. Not but
what if you was sold up, and other folks bought your furniture,
it's a comfort to think as you've kept it well rubbed. And there's
the linen, with your maiden mark on, might go all over the country.
It 'ud be a sad pity for our family." Mrs. Pullet shook her head
slowly.

"But what can I do, sister?" said Mrs. Tulliver. "Mr. Tulliver's
not a man to be dictated to,–not if I was to go to the parson and
get by heart what I should tell my husband for the best. And I'm
sure I don't pretend to know anything about putting out money and
all that. I could never see into men's business as sister Glegg
does."

"Well, you're like me in that, Bessy," said Mrs. Pullet; "and I
think it 'ud be a deal more becoming o' Jane if she'd have that
pier-glass rubbed oftener,–there was ever so many spots on it last
week,–instead o' dictating to folks as have more comings in than
she ever had, and telling 'em what they're to do with their money.
But Jane and me were allays contrairy; she
would
have
striped things, and I like spots. You like a spot too, Bessy; we
allays hung together i' that."

"Yes, Sophy," said Mrs. Tulliver, "I remember our having a blue
ground with a white spot both alike,–I've got a bit in a bed-quilt
now; and if you would but go and see sister Glegg, and persuade her
to make it up with Tulliver, I should take it very kind of you. You
was allays a good sister to me."

"But the right thing 'ud be for Tulliver to go and make it up
with her himself, and say he was sorry for speaking so rash. If
he's borrowed money of her, he shouldn't be above that," said Mrs.
Pullet, whose partiality did not blind her to principles; she did
not forget what was due to people of independent fortune.

"It's no use talking o' that," said poor Mrs. Tulliver, almost
peevishly. "If I was to go down on my bare knees on the gravel to
Tulliver, he'd never humble himself."

"Well, you can't expect me to persuade
Jane
to beg
pardon," said Mrs. Pullet. "Her temper's beyond everything; it's
well if it doesn't carry her off her mind, though there never
was
any of our family went to a madhouse."

"I'm not thinking of her begging pardon," said Mrs. Tulliver.
"But if she'd just take no notice, and not call her money in; as
it's not so much for one sister to ask of another; time 'ud mend
things, and Tulliver 'ud forget all about it, and they'd be friends
again."

Mrs. Tulliver, you perceive, was not aware of her husband's
irrevocable determination to pay in the five hundred pounds; at
least such a determination exceeded her powers of belief.

"Well, Bessy," said Mrs. Pullet, mournfully, "
I
don't
want to help you on to ruin. I won't be behindhand i' doing you a
good turn, if it is to be done. And I don't like it said among
acquaintance as we've got quarrels in the family. I shall tell Jane
that; and I don't mind driving to Jane's tomorrow, if Pullet
doesn't mind. What do you say, Mr. Pullet?"

"I've no objections," said Mr. Pullet, who was perfectly
contented with any course the quarrel might take, so that Mr.
Tulliver did not apply to
him
for money. Mr. Pullet was
nervous about his investments, and did not see how a man could have
any security for his money unless he turned it into land.

After a little further discussion as to whether it would not be
better for Mrs. Tulliver to accompany them on a visit to sister
Glegg, Mrs. Pullet, observing that it was tea-time, turned to reach
from a drawer a delicate damask napkin, which she pinned before her
in the fashion of an apron. The door did, in fact, soon open, but
instead of the tea-tray, Sally introduced an object so startling
that both Mrs. Pullet and Mrs. Tulliver gave a scream, causing
uncle Pullet to swallow his lozenge–for the fifth time in his life,
as he afterward noted.