After they'd got to bed one night, Mrs. Fox started the subject in her
husband's ear.
"'Tis time," she said, "that William Bassett set on to Christie. She's
wife-old now and a good-looking creature, and the men are after her
already--that Jersey sailor for one. And it's only making needless trouble
for her to go hankering after some worthless youth when you and me and
Bassett are all agreed that he must have her."
They'd planned the maiden's future to please themselves, not her; and such
was the view they took of life, that they seemed to think Christie no more
than their slave, to be given in marriage where it suited them best.
"There'll be a rumpus," said the ferryman. "But the least said, the
soonest mended. William named her to me not long ago, and he brought her a
brave dish of plums into the bar only last week. I'll see him to-morrow
and tell him to start on her serious and offer himself and say we will
it."
But even sooner than he expected did Jimmy see Mr. Bassett, for almost the
first passenger as he had for Greenway next day was William. This man
owned best part of a square mile of the famous Dittisham plum orchards,
and he had a bit of house property nigh St. George's Church also, and was
one of our most prosperous people at that time. He was a widower, old
enough to be Christie's father; but after five wifeless years he decided
to wed again, and having a cheerful conceit of himself and his cash, and
reckoning that he had only to drop the handkerchief to any female, decided
on Christie Morrison, because her temper was golden and her figure fine,
and her character above reproach.
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