'Yes, ma'am; do what you like,' the landlady heard. Mrs. Mel descended, saying: 'Send him up some fresh ale.'
'And you have made him sit down obedient to those chops?' cried the landlady. 'Well might poor dear Mr. Harringtonpleasant man as he was! say, as he used to say, "There's lovely women in the world, Mrs. Hawkshaw," he'd say, "and there's Duchesses," he'd say, "and there's they that can sing, and can dance, and some," he says, "that can cook." But he'd look sly as he'd stoop his head and shake it. "Roll 'em into one," he says, "and not any of your grand ladies can match my wife at home."
And, indeed, Mrs. Harrington, he told me he thought so many a time in the great company he frequented.'
Perfect peace reigning above, Mrs. Hawkshaw and Mrs. Mel sat down to supper below; and Mrs. Hawkshaw talked much of the great one gone. His relict did not care to converse about the dead, save in their practical aspect as ghosts; but she listened, and that passed the time. By-and-by, the old gentleman rang, and sent a civil message to know if the landlady had ship's rum in the house.
'Dear! here's another trouble,' cried the poor woman. 'Nonone!'
'Say, yes,' said Mrs. Mel, and called Dandy, and charged him to run down the street to the square, and ask for the house of Mr. Coxwell, the maltster, and beg of him, in her name, a bottle of his ship's rum.
'And don't you tumble down and break the bottle, Dandy. Accidents with spirit-bottles are not excused.'
Dandy went on the errand, after an energetic grunt.
In due time he returned with the bottle, whole and sound, and Mr. Coxwell's compliments. Mrs. Mel examined the cork to see that no process of suction had been attempted, and then said:
'Carry it up to him, Dandy. Let him see there's a man in the house besides himself.'
'Why, my dear,' the landlady turned to her, 'it seems natural to you to be mistress where you go. I don't at all mind, for ain't it my profit? But you do take us off our legs.'
Then the landlady, warmed by gratitude, told her that the old gentleman was the great London brewer, who brewed there with his brother, and brewed for himself five miles out of Fallow field, half of which and a good part of the neighbourhood he owned, and his name was Mr. Tom Cogglesby.
'Oh!' said Mrs. Mel. 'And his brother is Mr. Andrew.'
'That 's it,' said the landlady. 'And because he took it into his head to go and to choose for himself, and be married, no getting his brother, Mr. Tom, to speak to him. Why not, indeed? If there's to be no marrying, the sooner we lay down and give up, the better, I think. But that 's his way. He do hate us women, Mrs. Harrington. I have heard he was crossed. Some say it was the lady of Beckley Court, who was a Beauty, when he was only a poor cobbler's son.'
Mrs. Mel breathed nothing of her relationship to Mr. Tom, but continued from time to time to express solicitude about Dandy. They heard the door open, and old Tom laughing in a capital good temper, and then Dandy came down, evidently full of ship's rum.
'He's pumped me!' said Dandy, nodding heavily at his mistress.
Mrs. Mel took him up to his bed-room, and locked the door. On her way back she passed old Tom's chamber, and his chuckles were audible to her.
'They finished the rum,' said Mrs. Hawkshaw.
'I shall rate him for that to-morrow,' said Mrs. Mel. 'Giving that poor beast liquor!'
'Rate Mr. Tom! Oh! Mrs. Harrington! Why, he'll snap your head off for a word.'
Mrs. Mel replied that her head would require a great deal of snapping to come off.
During this conversation they had both heard a singular intermittent noise above. Mrs. Hawkshaw was the first to ask:
'What can it be? More trouble with him? He's in his bed-room now.'
'Mad with drink, like Dandy, perhaps,' said Mrs. Mel.
'Hark!' cried the landlady. 'Oh!'
It seemed that Old Tom was bouncing about in an extraordinary manner. Now came a pause, as if he had sworn to take his rest: now the room shook and the windows rattled.
'One 'd think, really, his bed was a frying-pan, and him a live fish in it,' said the landlady. 'Ohthere, again! My goodness! have he got a flea?'
The thought was alarming. Mrs. Mel joined in:
'Or a '
'Don't! don't, my dear!' she was cut short. 'Oh! one o' them little things 'd be ruin to me. To think o' that! Hark at him! It must be. And what's to do? I 've sent the maids to bed. We haven't a man. If I was to go and knock at his door, and ask?'
'Better try and get him to be quiet somehow.'
'Ah! I dare say I shall make him fire out fifty times worse.'
Mrs. Hawkshaw stipulated that Mrs. Mel should stand by her, and the two women went up-stairs and stood at Old Tom's door. There they could hear him fuming and muttering imprecations, and anon there was an interval of silence, and then the room was shaken, and the cursings recommenced.
'It must be a fight he 's having with a flea,' said the landlady. 'Oh! pray heaven, it is a flea. For a flea, my dear-gentlemen may bring that theirselves; but a b, that's a stationary, and born of a bed. Don't you hear? The other thing 'd give him a minute's rest; but a flea's hop-hop-off and on. And he sound like an old gentleman worried by a flea. What are you doing?'
Mrs. Mel had knocked at the door. The landlady waited breathlessly for the result. It appeared to have quieted Old Tom.
'What's the matter?' said Mrs. Mel, severely.
The landlady implored her to speak him fair, and reflect on the desperate things he might attempt.
'What's the matter? Can anything be done for you?'
Mr. Tom Cogglesby's reply comprised an insinuation so infamous regarding women when they have a solitary man in their power, that it cannot be placed on record.
'Is anything the matter with your bed?'
'Anything? Yes; anything is the matter, ma'am. Hope twenty live geese inside it's enough-eh? Bed, do you call it? It's the rack! It's damnation! Bed? Ha!'
After delivering this, he was heard stamping up and down the room.
'My very best bed!' whispered the landlady. 'Would it please you, sir, to changeI can give you another?'
'I'm not a man of experiments, ma'am-'specially in strange houses.'
'So very, very sorry!'
'What the deuce!' Old Tom came close to the door. 'You whimpering! You put a man in a beast of a bedyou drive him half madand then begin to blubber! Go away.'
'I am so sorry, sir!'
'If you don't go away, ma'am, I shall think your intentions are improper.'
'Oh, my goodness!' cried poor Mrs. Hawkshaw. 'What can one do with him?'
Mrs. Mel put Mrs. Hawkshaw behind her.
'Are you dressed?' she called out.
In this way Mrs. Mel tackled Old Tom. He was told that should he consent to cover himself decently, she would come into his room and make his bed comfortable. And in a voice that dispersed armies of innuendoes, she bade him take his choice, either to rest quiet or do her bidding. Had Old Tom found his master at last, and in one of the hated sex? Breathlessly Mrs. Hawkshaw waited his answer, and she was an astonished woman when it came.
'Very well, ma'am. Wait a couple of minutes. Do as you like.'
On their admission to the interior of the chamber, Old Tom was exhibited in his daily garb, sufficiently subdued to be civil and explain the cause of his discomfort. Lumps in his bed: he was bruised by them. He supposed he couldn't ask women to judge for themselvesthey'd be shriekingbut he could assure them he was blue all down his back. Mrs. Mel and Mrs. Hawkshaw turned the bed about, and punched it, and rolled it.
'Ha!' went Old Tom, 'what's the good of that? That's just how I found it. Moment I got into bed geese began to put up their backs.'
Mrs. Mel seldom indulged in a joke, and then only when it had a proverbial cast. On the present occasion, the truth struck her forcibly, and she said:
'Ha!' went Old Tom, 'what's the good of that? That's just how I found it. Moment I got into bed geese began to put up their backs.'
Mrs. Mel seldom indulged in a joke, and then only when it had a proverbial cast. On the present occasion, the truth struck her forcibly, and she said:
'One fool makes many, and so, no doubt, does one goose.'
Accompanied by a smile the words would have seemed impudent; but spoken as a plain fact, and with a grave face, it set Old Tom blinking like a small boy ten minutes after the whip.
'Now,' she pursued, speaking to him as to an old child, 'look here. This is how you manage. Knead down in the middle of the bed. Then jump into the hollow. Lie there, and you needn't wake till morning.'
Old Tom came to the side of the bed. He had prepared himself for a wretched night, an uproar, and eternal complaints against the house, its inhabitants, and its foundations; but a woman stood there who as much as told him that digging his fist into the flock and jumping into the hole into that hole under his, eyeswas all that was wanted! that he had been making a noise for nothing, and because he had not the wit to hit on a simple contrivance! Then, too, his jest about the geesethis woman had put a stop to that! He inspected the hollow cynically. A man might instruct him on a point or two: Old Tom was not going to admit that a woman could.
'Oh, very well; thank you, ma'am; that's your idea. I'll try it. Good night.'
'Good night,' returned Mrs. Mel. 'Don't forget to jump into the middle.'
'Head foremost, ma'am?'
'As you weigh,' said Mrs. Mel, and Old Tom trumped his lips, silenced if not beaten. Beaten, one might almost say, for nothing more was heard of him that night.
He presented himself to Mrs. Mel after breakfast next morning.
'Slept well, ma'am.'
'Oh! then you did as I directed you,' said Mrs. Mel.
'Those chops, too, very good. I got through 'em.'
'Eating, like scratching, only wants a beginning,' said Mrs. Mel.
'Ha! you've got your word, then, as well as everybody else. Where's your Dandy this morning, ma'am?'
'Locked up. You ought to be ashamed to give that poor beast liquor. He won't get fresh air to-day.'
'Ha! May I ask you where you're going to-day, ma'am?'
'I am going to Beckley.'
'So am I, ma'am. What d' ye say, if we join company. Care for insinuations?'
'I want a conveyance of some sort,' returned Mrs. Mel.
'Object to a donkey, ma'am?'
'Not if he's strong and will go.'
'Good,' said Old Tom; and while he spoke a donkey-cart stopped in front of the Dolphin, and a well-dressed man touched his hat.
'Get out of that damned bad habit, will you?' growled Old Tom. What do you mean by wearing out the brim o' your hat in that way? Help this woman in.'
Mrs. Mel helped herself to a part of the seat.
'We are too much for the donkey,' she said.
'Ha, that's right. What I have, ma'am, is good. I can't pretend to horses, but my donkey's the best. Are you going to cry about him?'
'No. When he's tired I shall either walk or harness you,' said Mrs. Mel.
This was spoken half-way down the High Street of Fallow field. Old Tom looked full in her face, and bawled out:
'Deuce take it. Are you a woman?'
'I have borne three girls and one boy,' said Mrs. Mel.
'What sort of a husband?'
'He is dead.'
'Ha! that's an opening, but 'tain't an answer. I'm off to Beckley on a marriage business. I 'm the son of a cobbler, so I go in a donkey-cart. No damned pretences for me. I'm going to marry off a young tailor to a gal he's been playing the lord to. If she cares for him she'll take him: if not, they're all the luckier, both of 'em.'
'What's the tailor's name?' said Mrs. Mel.
'You are a woman,' returned Old Tom. 'Now, come, ma'am, don't you feel ashamed of being in a donkeycart?'
'I 'm ashamed of men, sometimes,' said Mrs. Mel; 'never of animals.'
''Shamed o' me, perhaps.'
'I don't know you.'
'Ha! well! I'm a man with no pretences. Do you like 'em? How have you brought up your three girls and one boy? No pretenceseh?'
Mrs. Mel did not answer, and Old Tom jogged the reins and chuckled, and asked his donkey if he wanted to be a racer.
'Should you take me for a gentleman, ma'am?'
'I dare say you are, sir, at heart. Not from your manner of speech.'
'I mean appearances, ma'am.'
'I judge by the disposition.'
'You do, ma'am? Then, deuce take it, if you are a woman, you 're '
Old Tom had no time to conclude.
A great noise of wheels, and a horn blown, caused them both to turn their heads, and they beheld a curricle descending upon them vehemently, and a fashionably attired young gentleman straining with all his might at the reins. The next instant they were rolling on the bank. About twenty yards ahead the curricle was halted and turned about to see the extent of the mischief done.
'Pardon, a thousand times, my worthy couple,' cried the sonorous Mr. Raikes. 'What we have seen we swear not to divulge. Franco and Fred your pledge!'
'We swear!' exclaimed this couple.
But suddenly the cheeks of Mr. John Raikes flushed. He alighted from the box, and rushing up to Old Tom, was shouting, 'My bene'
'Do you want my toe on your plate?' Old Tom stopped him with.
The mysterious words completely changed the aspect of Mr. John Raikes. He bowed obsequiously and made his friend Franco step down and assist in the task of reestablishing the donkey, who fortunately had received no damage.
CHAPTER XXVII
EXHIBITS ROSE'S GENERALSHIP; EVAN'S PERFORMANCE ON THE SECOND FIDDLE; AND THE WRETCHEDNESS OF THE COUNTESS
We left Rose and Evan on their way to Lady Jocelyn. At the library-door Rose turned to him, and with her chin archly lifted sideways, said:
'I know what you feel; you feel foolish.'
Now the sense of honour, and of the necessity of acting the part it imposes on him, may be very strong in a young man; but certainly, as a rule, the sense of ridicule is more poignant, and Evan was suffering horrid pangs. We none of us like to play second fiddle. To play second fiddle to a young woman is an abomination to us all. But to have to perform upon that instrument to the darling of our heartswould we not rather die? nay, almost rather end the duet precipitately and with violence. Evan, when he passed Drummond into the house, and quietly returned his gaze, endured the first shock of this strange feeling. There could be no doubt that he was playing second fiddle to Rose. And what was he about to do? Oh, horror! to stand like a criminal, and say, or worse, have said for him, things to tip the ears with fire! To tell the young lady's mother that he had won her daughter's love, and meant what did he mean? He knew not. Alas! he was second fiddle; he could only mean what she meant. Evan loved Rose deeply and completely, but noble manhood was strong in him. You may sneer at us, if you please, ladies. We have been educated in a theory, that when you lead off with the bow, the order of Nature is reversed, and it is no wonder therefore, that, having stript us of one attribute, our fine feathers moult, and the majestic cock-like march which distinguishes us degenerates. You unsex us, if I may dare to say so. Ceasing to be men, what are we? If we are to please you rightly, always allow us to play First.
Poor Evan did feel foolish. Whether Rose saw it in his walk, or had a loving feminine intuition of it, and was aware of the golden rule I have just laid down, we need not inquire. She hit the fact, and he could only stammer, and bid her open the door.
'No,' she said, after a slight hesitation, 'it will be better that I should speak to Mama alone, I see. Walk out on the lawn, dear, and wait for me. And if you meet Drummond, don't be angry with him. Drummond is very fond of me, and of course I shall teach him to be fond of you. He only thinks . . . what is not true, because he does not know you. I do thoroughly, and there, you see, I give you my hand.'