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be vouchsafed。 His spare but healthy person； and high…featured；
firm face； that looked as if it had never been flushed by excess； was
in strong contrast； not only with the Squire’s； but with the
appearance of the Raveloe farmers generally—in accordance with
a favourite saying of his own； that “breed was stronger than
pasture。”
“Miss Nancy’s wonderful like what her mother was； though；
isn’t she； Kimble？” said the stout lady of that name； looking round
for her husband。
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But Dr。 Kimble （country apothecaries in old days enjoyed that
title without authority of diploma）； being a thin and agile man； was
flitting about the room with his hands in his pockets； making
himself agreeable to his feminine patients； with medical
impartiality； and being welcomed everywhere as a doctor by
hereditary right—not one of those miserable apothecaries who
canvass for practice in strange neighbourhoods； and spend all
their income in starving their one horse； but a man of substance；
able to keep an extravagant table like the best of his patients。 Time
out of mind the Raveloe doctor had been a Kimble； Kimble was
inherently a doctor’s name； and it was difficult to contemplate
firmly the melancholy fact that the actual Kimble had no son； so
that his practice might one day be handed over to a successor with
the incongruous name of Taylor or Johnson。 But in that case the
wiser people in Raveloe would employ Dr。 Blick of Flitton—as less
unnatural。
“Did you speak to me； my dear？” said the authentic doctor；
coming quickly to his wife’s side； but； as if foreseeing that she
would be too much out of breath to repeat her remark； he went on
immediately； “Ha； Miss Priscilla； the sight of you revives the taste
of that super…excellent pork…pie。 I hope the batch isn’t near an
end。”
“Yes； indeed； it is； doctor；” said Priscilla； “but I’ll answer for it
the next shall be as good。 My pork…pies don’t turn out well by
chance。”
“Not as your doctoring does； eh； Kimble？—because folks forget
to take your physic； eh？” said the Squire； who regarded physic
and doctors as many loyal churchmen regard the Church and the
clergy—tasting a joke against them when he was in health； but
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impatiently eager for their aid when anything was the matter with
him。 He tapped his box； and looked round with a triumphant
laugh。
“Ah； she has a quick wit； my friend Priscilla has；” said the
doctor； choosing to attribute the epigram to a lady rather than
allow a brother…in…law that advantage over him。 “She saves a little
pepper to sprinkle over her talk—that’s the reason why she never
puts too much into her pies。 There’s my wife； now； she never has
an answer at her tongue’s end； but if I offend her； she’s sure to
scarify my throat with black pepper the next day； or else give me
the colic with watery greens。 That’s an awful tit…for…tat。” Here the
vivacious doctor made a pathetic grimace。
“Did you ever hear the like？” said Mrs。 Kimble； laughing above
her double chin with much good…humour； aside to Mrs。
Crackenthorp； who blinked and nodded； and amiably intended to
smile； but the intention lost itself in small twitchings and noises。
“I suppose that’s the sort of tit…for…tat adopted in your
profession； Kimble； if you’ve a grudge against a patient；” said the
Rector。
“Never do have a grudge against our patients；” said Mr。
Kimble； “except when they leave us； and then； you see； we haven’t
the chance of prescribing for ’em。 Ha； Miss Nancy；” he continued；
suddenly skipping to Nancy’s side； “you won’t forget your
promise？ You’re to save a dance for me； you know。”
“Come； come； Kimble； don’t you be too for’ard；” said the
Squire。 “Give the young uns fair…play。 There’s my son Godfrey’ll
be wanting to have a round with you if you run off with Miss
Nancy。 He’s bespoke her for the first dance； I’ll be bound。 Eh； sir！
what do you say？” he continued； throwing himself backward； and
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looking at Godfrey。 “Haven’t you asked Miss Nancy to open the
dance with you？”
Godfrey； sorely uncomfortable under this significant insistence
about Nancy； and afraid to think where it would end by the time
his father had set his usual hospitable example of drinking before
and after supper； saw no course open but to turn to Nancy and
say； with as little awkwardness as possible—“No； I’ve not asked
her yet； but I hope she’ll consent—if somebody else hasn’t been
before me。”
“No； I’ve not engaged myself；” said Nancy； quietly； though
blushingly。 （If Mr。 Godfrey founded any hopes on her consenting
to dance with him； he would soon be undeceived； but there was no
need for her to be uncivil。） “Then I hope you’ve no objections to
dancing with me；” said Godfrey； beginning to lose the sense that
there was anything uncomfortable in this arrangement。
“No； no objections；” said Nancy； in a cold tone。
“Ah； well； you’re a lucky fellow； Godfrey；” said uncle Kimble；
“but you’re my godson； so I won’t stand in your way。 Else I’m not
so very old； eh； my dear？” he went on； skipping to his wife’s side
again。 “You wouldn’t mind my having a second after you were
gone—not if I cried a good deal first？”
“Come； come； take a cup o’ tea and stop your tongue； do；” said
good…humoured Mrs。 Kimble； feeling some pride in a husband
who must be regarded as so clever and amusing by the company
generally。 If he had only not been irritable at cards！
While safe； well…tested personalities were enlivening the tea in
this way； the sound of the fiddle approaching within a distance at
which it could be heard distinctly； made the young people look at
each other with sympathetic impatience for the end of the meal。
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“Why； there’s Solomon in the hall；” said the Squire； “and
playing my fav’rite tune； I believe—’The flaxen…headed
ploughboy’—he’s for giving us a hint as we aren’t enough in a
hurry to hear him play。 Bob；” he called out to his third long…legged
son； who was at the other end of the room； “open the door； and tell
Solomon to come in。 He shall give us a tune here。”
Bob obeyed； and Solomon walked in； fiddling as he walked； for
he would on no account break off in the middle of a tune。
“Here； Solomon；” said the Squire； with loud patronage。 “Round
here； my man。 Ah； I knew it was ‘The flaxen…headed ploughboy’：
there’s no finer tune。”
Solomon Macey； a small hale old man； with an abundant crop of
long white hair reaching nearly to his shoulders； advanced to the
indicated spot； bowing reverently while he fiddled； as much as to
say that he respected the company though he respected the
keynote more。 As soon as he had repeated the tune and lowered
his fiddle； he bowed again to the Squire and the Rector； and said；
“I hope I see your honour and your reverence well； and wishing
you health and long life and a happy New Year。 And wishing the
same to you； Mr。 Lammeter； sir； and to the other gentlemen； and
the madams； and the young lasses。”
As Solomon uttered the last words； he bowed in all directions
solicitou