# Arminell, a social romance/Chapter 24

CHAPTER XXIV.
A HANDLE TO THE ENEMY.
When Lord Lamerton decided that a thing was to be done, he liked to have it done at once, and now that he was thoroughly roused, he would brook no delay in the matter of Patience Kite's cottage.
Mrs. Kite had baffled the authorities. There was no question that her house was unfit to be inhabited by a human being, and that her life was not safe in it. A heavy gale might bring the roof and chimney down on her in her bed and bury her. The relieving officer had complained and remonstrated. The sanitary officer had viewed the ruin and had condemned it. Mr. Macduff had ordered Mrs. Kite to put the cottage in repair. She did nothing, and apparently nothing could be done with her. She absolutely refused to leave her cottage, and to put it in habitable condition was beyond her power. If this case had occurred anywhere in Europe except in England, the police would have made short work with Mrs. Kite, but in England, every man's house is his castle, in whatever condition the house may be. Now, had a drain from Mrs. Kite's hovel proved a nuisance to neighbours, she could have been dealt with, but she had no drains at all; and her roof threatened no one but herself. The authorities had necessarily consumed much time over Mrs. Kite, and all to no purpose. The sanitary officer complained to the board ​of guardians a month after viewing and condemning the house. The guardians waited another month and then waited on the magistrates in petty sessions to issue an order to Mrs. Kite to vacate her cottage. The order was issued and served. Another month passed, and Mrs. Kite had not budged. At the next petty sessions enquiry was made whether any further steps could be taken. It appeared that Mrs. Kite was liable to a fine of ten shillings for every day she remained after the order had been served, but, as the sergeant of police observed to the magistrates, all her goods, if sold, would not fetch ten shillings, and the clerk of the court could find no precedent for evicting the old woman; all that could be done would be to sell her goods, but that was the limit of their power.
She was, it was true, by her tenure, bound to keep the house in good order, and accordingly Lord Lamerton, as lord of the manor, demanded this, but she did nothing. It was true that he might, in the event of a tenant neglecting to fulfil the stipulation, order the repair, and distrain on the tenant for the costs. But Mrs. Kite was not worth distraining, and the house was not worth rebuilding. No one, after the old woman's death, would care to live in such a lonely spot. To rebuild, would cost a hundred and fifty or two hundred pounds. However, rather than that the scandal should continue, Lord Lamerton resolved to rebuild, when he learned that legally he might not pull down without rebuilding. So Mrs. Kite was about to put his lordship to the cost of nearly two hundred pounds to save her life in her own despite. We have odd ways of doing things in England.
The news that Mrs. Kite's house was to be pulled about her ears rapidly spread through the village, and many people ​assembled to see the ejection of the hag and the demolition of roof and chimney.
Mrs. Kite was a personage not a little dreaded; she was what is called a wise-woman; she was consulted when any of the cottagers were ill. The medical man was sent for reluctantly, and little trust was put in his medicines, but the wise-woman enjoyed the fullest confidence. To meddle with her was a dangerous matter. She used her powers for good, but it was quite possible for her to employ them otherwise. No one cared to provoke her. Every one desired to stand on good terms with her. Before the rector and Mrs. Cribbage, and my lady and the Macduffs, the villagers spoke disparagingly of Patience Kite, but among themselves they regarded her with respect.
Some ill would come of this action of Lord Lamerton, they argued; he might be a great man, but there are things with which the greatest cannot cope. Ill would come of it how, no one could say, but somehow, all agreed, it would come. Had not Patience's uncle beaten her when she was a child, and his house had been burnt down? True, folks said that Patience had fired it, and true it was she had been sent to prison on that account; but it was said she had done it only because they could not otherwise account for the fire. There was Farmer Worth called her an ugly name once, when she asked for skimmed milk, and sure enough his cows had dropped their calves after till he got a goat to run along with them. Moreover, the villagers argued, why should a woman be ejected from her house? Her father had built the cottage, and it was on three lives, his, his wife's and child's, and now it was Patience's as long as the breath was in her. If she chose to keep it in bad repair that was her look-out. Because a woman wore rags, was that a reason why Lord Lamerton and Mr. Macduff should pull her gown off her back? Because she had a bad tooth or two in her head, had they any right to knock ​out all the sound teeth in her jaw? Because she had not patent-leather dancing-pumps, was she to be forced to go barefoot? Because she didn't keep her hair over tidy, was that a reason why she should have her head shaved? Lord Lamerton had no right to interfere. England is a free country, in which folks may act as they like, and live as they like, so long as they do not interfere with their neighbours, and Mrs. Kite had no neighbours. Her cottage was not within sight of Orleigh Park—it did his lordship no injury. Did Mrs. Kite's kitchen chimney threaten to fall on Lord Lamerton's head? Folks, even lords, have no right to interfere with those who don't interfere with them.
Popular sympathy went altogether with Patience Kite. Perhaps at another time the villagers would have been more disposed to judge reasonably, but at this juncture they were smarting under the sense of wrong caused by the closing of the manganese mine, and were therefore disposed to make common cause with any one against whom his lordship acted with apparent rigour.
When Macduff and his workmen came to the hovel, they found a number of sympathisers assembled, mostly miners out of work and some women.
Outside the cottage sat Thomasine. She had been sent back to her mother from Court farm because of her sprained ankle, which incapacitated her for work. Archelaus Tubb was there also. He, likewise, was out of work—not an unusual condition with him, for he was a bad workman whatever he took up, and got his dismissal wherever he went. The girl was pouting; she had her hands folded in her lap, and her brows bent. She looked wonderfully handsome, with a dash of savagery in her beauty.
Within the house was Mrs. Kite. She had put together her few valuables in an oak chest, and sat on it, near her hearth, with her feet on the hearthstone, and her arms folded. She would not move. The house might be ​dismantled about her, but there she would remain to the last.
Mr. Macduff entered the cottage, and received a scowl from Thomasine as he passed her. He endeavoured, but in vain, to persuade the woman to come outside.
"But," said Mr. Macduff, "they're about to pu' the roof down over your head."
Mrs. Kite made no answer.
Then he became angry, and ordered two masons to enter the ruin and remove the old woman; but this they were afraid to do. They pretended that the reason was lest she should bring an action against them; really, lest she should "overlook" them; that is, cast an evil eye upon them.
"I'll give half a sovereign to any who will bring her out," offered the agent.
The men shrugged their shoulders, and a miner who was lounging against a tree in the rear muttered, "If you're so anxious to get her out, you and his lordship had best drag her out yourselves."
"Begin with the demolition," ordered Macduff. The workmen scrambled on the roof, and commenced tearing off the old, thin and rotten thatch, beginning at the end furthest removed from that where the old woman sat.
A few groans and exclamations of "shame!" issued from the lookers-on.
As the thatch was being riven away, plaster from the rotten ceiling fell, and with it drifts of straw, into the cottage. Dust rose, thick and blinding, but Mrs. Kite refused to stir. She would stifle there rather than desert her hearth.
Again Macduff went to the door to expostulate. The woman answered with a snarl, as a wild beast worried in its lair.
"Go on," shouted Macduff to the men.
Then suddenly a tie-beam gave way, and fell through, with a crash, to the cottage floor.
​Immediately ensued a rush of lookers-on to the cottage door and windows, but the dust drave out in their faces, thick as steam, preventing them from seeing anything. But, though Patience could not be seen, her voice was heard muttering behind the fog of lime and dust of rotten wood.
Macduff did not relish his task. Lord Lamerton was not present; he had gone to a ploughing match, where he was to distribute the prizes. If my lord had been at home, the agent would have asked for further directions; but, as he was away, he felt bound to proceed according to his orders.
The workmen engaged on the roof now discovered that their lunch hour had arrived, and they descended the ladders with alacrity to regale themselves on the cake and cold tea they had brought with them.
The pause allowed the dust to clear away, and Macduff, looking through the doorway, descried Mrs. Kite, powdered with lime, her hair almost white, still crouched on her box in the same place, resting her chin in her hands, and her elbows on her knees.
What was he to do? He bit his lips, and swore in broad Scotch. The masons were eating and joking among themselves. The miners were muttering.
Leisurely—before Macduff had decided on a course, and reluctantly, the masons refolded their bundles, and returned to the ladders.
"Rip off the straw," said the agent, "but be varry careful not to disturb the principals. If the old creature finds she has nae cover o'er her head when the rain comes, maybe she'll depart of her own accord."
The stripping off of the thatch was resumed, and the dust fell thicker over the part of the room where Mrs. Kite sat; it poured out of every opening, it rose from where the roof had been torn; the cottage resembled a smoking dunghill, and the cloud spread over and enveloped the whole ​clearing, powdering grass and bushes, and the coats and boots of the spectators.
All at once, a shout from a mason, then a crash. He had been astride on a principal when it had given way and the man had fallen through the ceiling into the room beneath, tearing down the laths and plaster with him. He was not injured, he came forth a moment later, coughing and sneezing, as dusty as a miller, and was saluted with laughter.
"Halloo there!" shouted Macduff. "The roof is going."
The failure of one principal entailed the fall of the rest; they were dragged out of place; they slanted on one side, parted from the chimney, but remained on the walls, inclined.
Thomasine, alarmed for her mother's safety, now clung to the door, and cried to her to come forth. She could see nothing for the cloud that filled the cottage. Thomasine, lamed by her sprained ankle, stood at the door and limped painfully a step forward.
"Oh, Arkie! Arkie!" she cried, appealing to her lover, "do run in and force mother to come out."
"But she will not come," remonstrated he.
Another shout—now of dismay.
"The chimney! the chimney!"
A crack had suddenly revealed itself. The rotten loosely-compacted wall had parted.
"It will be down in a minute! save her!"
"Five—I mean one sovereign to any who will bring her out," shouted Macduff.
Then Thomasine grasped Archelaus' shoulder. "Come," she said, "I will go—help, we must save her."
"I will do it," said the lad, and plunged into the cottage.
For a moment every one held his breath. Thomasine limped away from the doomed cottage. All heard the young fellow's voice shouting to Mrs. Kite.
​Then, suddenly, the whole chimney came down with a rush. It was as though it had closed into itself like a telescope. A dull, heavy thud, muffled by the dense enveloping fog of dust, was heard, and then volumes of yellow smoke-like fumes poured out in gushes and spirals, and rose in a column above the cottage.
Dense though the cloud was, in through it rushed the men, stumbling over heaps of stone, and choking in the thick air, but saw nothing whatever, could see nothing; and came forth coughing, rubbing their eyes, half suffocated, half blinded.
Nothing could be done, the extent of the mischief could not be discovered till the volumes of fine powder, pungent as snuff, had been given time to clear away, at least partially.
Now Macduff plunged in, and stumbled against Thomasine weeping and wringing her hands, blindly groping in the opaque atmosphere, thick as soup. "My mother! My Arkie! They are both dead! Both taken from me!"
"Stand aside!" shouted the agent. "What creatures these women are." He coughed and growled. "If anything has happened, it is her fault, she was warned. But the blame will be put on me." Then he shouted, "Tubb! Tubb! Mrs. Kite!" but received no answer.
In at the door came the men again, miners and masons together, and by crouching they obtained clearer air, and were better able to see. The fallen chimney formed a great heap, and the ruins were spread over the whole floor; but how high the heap rose they were unable to distinguish, for the dust-mist hung about it, dense, impenetrable, disclosing only, and that indistinctly, the base of the mound.
Then a cry from Thomasine. She had clasped a hand that protruded from the rubbish pile.
"It is Arkie! It is Arkie!" she cried. "He is dead, he has been killed."
​"Run," ordered Mr. Macduff. "Run, some of you fellows, for picks."
"If he's dead, you've killed 'n," growled a miner. "That is—you and my lord." The man went forth, whilst the rest, crouching, wiping their eyes on their cuffs, and wiping the dust into them, clearing their throats and choking again, began to pull the stones away. But the chimney had been built of as much clay as stone. Though so close to a lime-kiln, little lime had been used in its construction, and the slaty stone itself corroded by weather and the lime which had lain between its films in the quarry had dissolved to black powder. A pick did not suffice to remove the rubbish, shovels were required as well. The dust did not disperse, every upturn of the heap sent forth fresh volumes mingled with soot; but many hands were now engaged, and in ten minutes Archelaus Tubb had been extracted, and was carried forth and laid on the turf outside.
He was so covered with dust that he looked as if made of dark earth, all of one colour—face, hair, clothing, hands.
"Run for a doctor," called Macduff. "Where is he to be taken to? Go on some of you turning over the heap. Look for Mrs. Kite, she must be there. Confound the obstinacy of the woman. I shall be blamed for this, of course. Always so. The saddle put on the wrong horse. Some of you get water, and wash his face, and see where the lad is hurt. Please stand back, Thomasine, you can do no good. I will go back and help to find Mrs. Kite. Why the de'il could she not have come forth when bidden? She had warning enough given her." Then he returned to the cottage. He was now himself so covered with dust that the natural colour of his face and the tincture of his garments could not be distinguished. Looking up from inside the cottage was like looking into a London fog. There was a great gap where the chimney had stood, the roof was ​stripped of its covering and the principals were inclined out of their proper positions.
"Well," said Macduff. "Have you come on her?"
"We haven't come on nothing but Arkie Tubb," answered one of the men. "There's a lot of rummage more to be cleared away."
"Look sharp about it," said the agent. "If she be buried, the only chance of life for her is to be dug out at once."
"Not much chance of life, then," said one of the men.
A quarter of an hour passed, and Patience had not been exhumed.
A diversion of interest was caused by the arrival of the surgeon. He examined the young man, and pronounced that, though he was not dead, he was so injured that he could not live beyond an hour.
The last heap of fallen chimney-ruin had been cleared away, and Mrs. Kite had not been found.
"She has been spirited away," said the men. "We always knew she was a wise woman."
"I wouldn't have had this happen," growled Macduff, "not for ten pounds—I mean, two pounds ten. What a handle this will give to the enemy!"