Mary Barton Page #4

Mary Barton: A Tale of Manchester Life is the first novel by English author Elizabeth Gaskell, published in 1848. The story is set in the English city of Manchester between 1839 and 1842, and deals with the difficulties faced by the Victorian working class.

• Novel

								

fondness for infants, and with some little foresight of the event
soon to happen at home; while young Wilson seemed to lose his rough,
cubbish nature as he crowed and cooed to his little brother.

"Twins is a great trial to a poor man, bless 'em," said the
half-proud, half-weary father, as he bestowed a smacking kiss on the
babe ere he parted with it.




CHAPTER II.

A MANCHESTER TEA-PARTY.


   Polly, put the kettle on,
     And let's have tea!
   Polly, put the kettle on,
     And we'll all have tea.


"Here we are, wife; didst thou think thou'd lost us?" quoth
hearty-voiced Wilson, as the two women rose and shook themselves
in preparation for their homeward walk. Mrs. Barton was evidently
soothed, if not cheered, by the unburdening of her fears and thoughts
to her friend; and her approving look went far to second her
husband's invitation that the whole party should adjourn from Green
Heys Fields to tea, at the Bartons' house. The only faint opposition
was raised by Mrs. Wilson, on account of the lateness of the hour at
which they would probably return, which she feared on her babies'
account.

"Now, hold your tongue, missis, will you," said her husband,
good-temperedly. "Don't you know them brats never goes to sleep till
long past ten? and haven't you a shawl, under which you can tuck one
lad's head, as safe as a bird's under its wing? And as for t'other
one, I'll put it in my pocket rather than not stay, now we are this
far away from Ancoats."

"Or I can lend you another shawl," suggested Mrs. Barton.

"Ay, any thing rather than not stay."

The matter being decided, the party proceeded home, through many
half-finished streets, all so like one another that you might have
easily been bewildered and lost your way. Not a step, however, did
our friends lose; down this entry, cutting off that corner, until
they turned out of one of these innumerable streets into a little
paved court, having the backs of houses at the end opposite to
the opening, and a gutter running through the middle to carry off
household slops, washing suds, &c. The women who lived in the court
were busy taking in strings of caps, frocks, and various articles of
linen, which hung from side to side, dangling so low, that if our
friends had been a few minutes sooner, they would have had to stoop
very much, or else the half-wet clothes would have flapped in their
faces; but although the evening seemed yet early when they were in
the open fields--among the pent-up houses, night, with its mists, and
its darkness, had already begun to fall.

Many greetings were given and exchanged between the Wilsons and these
women, for not long ago they had also dwelt in this court.

Two rude lads, standing at a disorderly looking house-door,
exclaimed, as Mary Barton (the daughter) passed, "Eh, look! Polly
Barton's gotten a sweetheart."

Of course this referred to young Wilson, who stole a look to see how
Mary took the idea. He saw her assume the air of a young fury, and to
his next speech she answered not a word.

Mrs. Barton produced the key of the door from her pocket; and on
entering the house-place it seemed as if they were in total darkness,
except one bright spot, which might be a cat's eye, or might be, what
it was, a red-hot fire, smouldering under a large piece of coal,
which John Barton immediately applied himself to break up, and the
effect instantly produced was warm and glowing light in every corner
of the room. To add to this (although the coarse yellow glare seemed
lost in the ruddy glow from the fire), Mrs. Barton lighted a dip by
sticking it in the fire, and having placed it satisfactorily in a
tin candlestick, began to look further about her, on hospitable
thoughts intent. The room was tolerably large, and possessed many
conveniences. On the right of the door, as you entered, was a longish
window, with a broad ledge. On each side of this, hung blue-and-white
check curtains, which were now drawn, to shut in the friends met to
enjoy themselves. Two geraniums, unpruned and leafy, which stood
on the sill, formed a further defence from out-door pryers. In
the corner between the window and the fire-side was a cupboard,
apparently full of plates and dishes, cups and saucers, and some
more nondescript articles, for which one would have fancied their
possessors could find no use--such as triangular pieces of glass to
save carving knives and forks from dirtying table-cloths. However,
it was evident Mrs. Barton was proud of her crockery and glass, for
she left her cupboard door open, with a glance round of satisfaction
and pleasure. On the opposite side to the door and window was the
staircase, and two doors; one of which (the nearest to the fire)
led into a sort of little back kitchen, where dirty work, such
as washing up dishes, might be done, and whose shelves served as
larder, and pantry, and storeroom, and all. The other door, which
was considerably lower, opened into the coal-hole--the slanting
closet under the stairs; from which, to the fire-place, there was a
gay-coloured piece of oil-cloth laid. The place seemed almost crammed
with furniture (sure sign of good times among the mills). Beneath the
window was a dresser with three deep drawers. Opposite the fire-place
was a table, which I should call a Pembroke, only that it was made
of deal, and I cannot tell how far such a name may be applied to
such humble material. On it, resting against the wall, was a bright
green japanned tea-tray, having a couple of scarlet lovers embracing
in the middle. The fire-light danced merrily on this, and really
(setting all taste but that of a child's aside) it gave a richness
of colouring to that side of the room. It was in some measure propped
up by a crimson tea-caddy, also of japan ware. A round table on one
branching leg really for use, stood in the corresponding corner to
the cupboard; and, if you can picture all this with a washy, but
clean stencilled pattern on the walls, you can form some idea of John
Barton's home.

The tray was soon hoisted down, and before the merry chatter of
cups and saucers began, the women disburdened themselves of their
out-of-door things, and sent Mary up stairs with them. Then came a
long whispering, and chinking of money, to which Mr. and Mrs. Wilson
were too polite to attend; knowing, as they did full well, that it
all related to the preparations for hospitality; hospitality that,
in their turn, they should have such pleasure in offering. So they
tried to be busily occupied with the children, and not to hear Mrs.
Barton's directions to Mary.

"Run, Mary dear, just round the corner, and get some fresh eggs at
Tipping's (you may get one a-piece, that will be five-pence), and see
if he has any nice ham cut, that he would let us have a pound of."

"Say two pounds, missis, and don't be stingy," chimed in the husband.

"Well, a pound and a half, Mary. And get it Cumberland ham, for
Wilson comes from there-away, and it will have a sort of relish of
home with it he'll like,--and Mary" (seeing the lassie fain to be
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