living near the old man, and yet he had begun to wonder if that might have to be, as his father-in-law's health failed. Of one thing he was quite positive—he would never live under the same roof with him. It was bad enough to watch Molly wearing herself out, once or twice a year. To see her slaving for that old tyrant, day in and day out, would be impossible, and he was not going to stand for that, whatever the future held.
The day of the fair dawned with a respite from the rain, but no one could truthfully call it 'Mrs Curdle's weather'. The old lady had always seemed to bring sunshine and cloudless skies, but this particular morning was overcast, with only a few shreds of blue sky among the grey mass to give hope of better things to come.
During the day, Ben completed the preparations to his satisfaction, and gave the men an hour or two off. The fair would open at four o'clock, and most of the trade would come from mothers with young children, for the first two or three hours.
After that, with any luck, a good crowd of adults would arrive, willing to spend and out to enjoy some boisterous fun. At ten-thirty the fair must close, so that Ben earnestly hoped that the rain would hold off for the next few days, and particularly during those few vital hours each day when he hoped to recoup some of his outlay.
He was determined to try and get Molly alone for an hour during the afternoon, out of earshot of her father, and to tell her a little about his fears for the future of the fair. Not that she was completely ignorant of its diminishing returns. It was she who kept the rudimentary accounts, and she who helped at one of the stalls whenever she could. It did not need a vast intelligence to see that the crowds were thinner than before, and that takings were down, but Ben feared that she did not realise how dangerously low their resources were. She knew nothing of the offer made by Dick Hasler, and Ben wanted to know how she felt about it.
A fine brown steak and kidney pie dominated the table at midday, and they all did justice to Molly's cooking. Even the old man, Ben noticed, tucked in, and grunted his appreciation in a grudging fashion.
'Now, you go and have a lay down, Dad,' said kindly Molly 'while we wash up. Do you good to have a nap, and I'll wake you in time to go over to the church.'
Albert departed aloft and the young couple went to the sink. George was busy with his bricks at the table before going for his own brief rest. Now, thought Ben, was the time to broach the delicate subject. But Molly forestalled him.
'How d'you think dad seems?'
'Not too bad. Ate two platefuls of pie, so he can't be at death's door yet. You worry overmuch about him, and he plays up to you.'
'That's not wholly true. His breathing's that rattly it scares me. He'll be back in hospital if he don't take care, and he's no more likely to do that than young George there.'
'He's a grown man. You can't expect to do everything for him.'
'And that ain't all,' went on Molly. 'His underclothes is in rags. I've torn up most of 'em for dusters as I've washed 'em, and I've taken a set of yours for him to keep the old fellow going until I can get down to Lulling to set him up.'
'Thanks,' said Ben laconically. 'And who pays for the new clobber?'
'Well, he will. I'll see to that. He's got a bit put by in the Post Office, and it's time he took some out for a few decent warm clothes. He don't know yet, but I had a bonfire of some of the worst this morning.'
Ben looked startled, and nearly dropped the pie-dish he was wiping.
'Watch it, girl!' he cried. 'He can be real nasty when he's roused. Lord knows the sparks'll fly when he finds out.'
'Then they must fly,' said Molly flatly, tipping away the washing-up water. 'I'm going to sort him out before we move on next week. And what's more, he's going to be given a good hot bath tonight, come what may!'
'Well, you can face that fight while I'm over the fair,' said Ben. 'And good luck to you!'
He
The day of the fair dawned with a respite from the rain, but no one could truthfully call it 'Mrs Curdle's weather'. The old lady had always seemed to bring sunshine and cloudless skies, but this particular morning was overcast, with only a few shreds of blue sky among the grey mass to give hope of better things to come.
During the day, Ben completed the preparations to his satisfaction, and gave the men an hour or two off. The fair would open at four o'clock, and most of the trade would come from mothers with young children, for the first two or three hours.
After that, with any luck, a good crowd of adults would arrive, willing to spend and out to enjoy some boisterous fun. At ten-thirty the fair must close, so that Ben earnestly hoped that the rain would hold off for the next few days, and particularly during those few vital hours each day when he hoped to recoup some of his outlay.
He was determined to try and get Molly alone for an hour during the afternoon, out of earshot of her father, and to tell her a little about his fears for the future of the fair. Not that she was completely ignorant of its diminishing returns. It was she who kept the rudimentary accounts, and she who helped at one of the stalls whenever she could. It did not need a vast intelligence to see that the crowds were thinner than before, and that takings were down, but Ben feared that she did not realise how dangerously low their resources were. She knew nothing of the offer made by Dick Hasler, and Ben wanted to know how she felt about it.
A fine brown steak and kidney pie dominated the table at midday, and they all did justice to Molly's cooking. Even the old man, Ben noticed, tucked in, and grunted his appreciation in a grudging fashion.
'Now, you go and have a lay down, Dad,' said kindly Molly 'while we wash up. Do you good to have a nap, and I'll wake you in time to go over to the church.'
Albert departed aloft and the young couple went to the sink. George was busy with his bricks at the table before going for his own brief rest. Now, thought Ben, was the time to broach the delicate subject. But Molly forestalled him.
'How d'you think dad seems?'
'Not too bad. Ate two platefuls of pie, so he can't be at death's door yet. You worry overmuch about him, and he plays up to you.'
'That's not wholly true. His breathing's that rattly it scares me. He'll be back in hospital if he don't take care, and he's no more likely to do that than young George there.'
'He's a grown man. You can't expect to do everything for him.'
'And that ain't all,' went on Molly. 'His underclothes is in rags. I've torn up most of 'em for dusters as I've washed 'em, and I've taken a set of yours for him to keep the old fellow going until I can get down to Lulling to set him up.'
'Thanks,' said Ben laconically. 'And who pays for the new clobber?'
'Well, he will. I'll see to that. He's got a bit put by in the Post Office, and it's time he took some out for a few decent warm clothes. He don't know yet, but I had a bonfire of some of the worst this morning.'
Ben looked startled, and nearly dropped the pie-dish he was wiping.
'Watch it, girl!' he cried. 'He can be real nasty when he's roused. Lord knows the sparks'll fly when he finds out.'
'Then they must fly,' said Molly flatly, tipping away the washing-up water. 'I'm going to sort him out before we move on next week. And what's more, he's going to be given a good hot bath tonight, come what may!'
'Well, you can face that fight while I'm over the fair,' said Ben. 'And good luck to you!'
He
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