Maria Edgeworth - The Parent's Assistant; Or, Stories for Children

'Barbara! ay; like father, like daughter,' cried Farmer Price, starting from the thoughtful attitude in which he had been fixed, and drawing his chair closer to his wife.

'You see something is amiss with me, wife – I'll tell you what it is.' As he lowered his voice, Susan, who was not sure that he wished she should hear what he was going to say, retired from behind his chair. 'Susan, don't go; sit you down here, my sweet Susan,' said he, making room for her upon his chair; 'I believe I was a little cross when I came in first to-night; but I had something to vex me, as you shall hear.

'About a fortnight ago, you know, wife,' continued he, 'there was a balloting in our town for the militia; now at that time I wanted but ten days of forty years of age; and the attorney told me I was a fool for not calling myself plump forty. But the truth is the truth, and it is what I think fittest to be spoken at all times come what will of it. So I was drawn for a militiaman; but when I thought how loth you and I would be to part, I was main glad to hear that I could get off by paying eight or nine guineas for a substitute – only I had not the nine guineas – for, you know, we had bad luck with our sheep this year, and they died away one after another – but that was no excuse, so I went to Attorney Case, and, with a power of difficulty, I got him to lend me the money; for which, to be sure, I gave him something, and left my lease of our farm with him, as he insisted upon it, by way of security for the loan. Attorney Case is too many for me. He has found what he calls a flaw in my lease; and the lease, he tells me, is not worth a farthing, and that he can turn us all out of our farm to-morrow if he pleases; and sure enough he will please; for I have thwarted him this day, and he swears he'll be revenged of me. Indeed, he has begun with me badly enough already. I'm not come to the worst part of my story yet – '

Here Farmer Price made a dead stop; and his wife and Susan looked up in his face, breathless with anxiety.

'It must come out,' said he, with a short sigh; 'I must leave you in three days, wife.'

'Must you?' said his wife, in a faint, resigned voice. 'Susan, love, open the window.' Susan ran to open the window, and then returned to support her mother's head. When she came a little to herself she sat up, begged that her husband would go on, and that nothing might be concealed from her. Her husband had no wish indeed to conceal anything from a wife he loved so well; but, firm as he was, and steady to his maxim, that the truth was the thing the fittest to be spoken at all times, his voice faltered, and it was with great difficulty that he brought himself to speak the whole truth at this moment.

The fact was this. Case met Farmer Price as he was coming home, whistling, from a new-ploughed field. The attorney had just dined at The Abbey . The Abbey was the family seat of an opulent baronet in the neighbourhood, to whom Mr. Case had been agent. The baronet died suddenly, and his estate and title devolved to a younger brother, who was now just arrived in the country, and to whom Mr. Case was eager to pay his court, in hopes of obtaining his favour. Of the agency he flattered himself that he was pretty secure; and he thought that he might assume a tone of command towards the tenants, especially towards one who was some guineas in debt, and in whose lease there was a flaw.

Accosting the farmer in a haughty manner, the attorney began with, 'So, Farmer Price, a word with you, if you please. Walk on here, man, beside my horse, and you'll hear me. You have changed your opinion, I hope, about that bit of land – that corner at the end of my garden?' 'As how, Mr. Case?' said the farmer. 'As how, man! Why, you said something about it's not belonging to me, when you heard me talk of enclosing it the other day.' 'So I did,' said Price, 'and so I do.'

Provoked and astonished at the firm tone in which these words were pronounced, the attorney was upon the point of swearing that he would have his revenge; but, as his passions were habitually attentive to the letter of the law, he refrained from any hasty expression, which might, he was aware, in a court of justice, be hereafter brought against him.

'My good friend, Mr. Price,' said he, in a soft voice, and pale with suppressed rage. He forced a smile. 'I'm under the necessity of calling in the money I lent you some time ago, and you will please to take notice that it must be paid to-morrow morning. I wish you a good evening. You have the money ready for me, I daresay.'

'No,' said the farmer, 'not a guinea of it; but John Simpson, who was my substitute, has not left our village yet. I'll get the money back from him, and go myself, if so be it must be so, into the militia – so I will.'

The attorney did not expect such a determination, and he represented, in a friendly, hypocritical tone to Price, that he had no wish to drive him to such an extremity; that it would be the height of folly in him to run his head against a wall for no purpose . 'You don't mean to take the corner into your own garden, do you, Price?' said he. 'I,' said the farmer, 'God forbid! it's none of mine; I never take what does not belong to me.' 'True, right, very proper, of course,' said Mr. Case; 'but then you have no interest in life in the land in question?' 'None.' 'Then why so stiff about it, Price? All I want of you to say – ' 'To say that black is white, which I won't do, Mr. Case. The ground is a thing not worth talking of; but it's neither yours nor mine. In my memory, since the new lane was made, it has always been open to the parish; and no man shall enclose it with my good-will. Truth is truth, and must be spoken; justice is justice, and should be done, Mr. Attorney.'

'And law is law, Mr. Farmer, and shall have its course, to your cost,' cried the attorney, exasperated by the dauntless spirit of this village Hampden.

Here they parted. The glow of enthusiasm, the pride of virtue, which made our hero brave, could not render him insensible. As he drew nearer home, many melancholy thoughts pressed upon his heart. He passed the door of his own cottage with resolute steps, however, and went through the village in search of the man who had engaged to be his substitute. He found him, told him how the matter stood; and luckily the man, who had not yet spent the money, was willing to return it; as there were many others drawn for the militia, who, he observed, would be glad to give him the same price, or more, for his services.

The moment Price got the money, he hastened to Mr. Case's house, walked straight forward into his room, and laying the money down upon his desk, 'There, Mr. Attorney, are your nine guineas; count them; now I have done with you.'

'Not yet,' said the attorney, jingling the money triumphantly in his hand. 'We'll give you a taste of the law, my good sir, or I'm mistaken. You forgot the flaw in your lease, which I have safe in this desk.'

'Ah, my lease,' said the farmer, who had almost forgot to ask for it till he was thus put in mind of it by the attorney's imprudent threat.

'Give me my lease, Mr. Case. I've paid my money; you have no right to keep the lease any longer, whether it is a bad one or a good one.'

'Pardon me,' said the attorney, locking his desk and putting the key into his pocket, 'possession, my honest friend,' cried he, striking his hand upon the desk, 'is nine points of the law. Good-night to you. I cannot in conscience return a lease to a tenant in which I know there is a capital flaw. It is my duty to show it to my employer; or, in other words, to your new landlord, whose agent I have good reasons to expect I shall be. You will live to repent your obstinacy, Mr. Price. Your servant, sir.'

Price retired with melancholy feelings, but not intimidated. Many a man returns home with a gloomy countenance, who has not quite so much cause for vexation.