[Illustration]
_Comprising a Brief Description of the Company at the Peacock
assembled; and a Tale told by a Bagman_
It is pleasant to turn from contemplating the strife and turmoil
of political existence, to the peaceful repose of private life.
Although in reality no great partisan of either side, Mr. Pickwick
was sufficiently fired with Mr. Pott's enthusiasm, to apply his whole
time and attention to the proceedings, of which the last chapter
affords a description compiled from his own memoranda. Nor while he
was thus occupied was Mr. Winkle idle, his whole time being devoted to
pleasant walks and short country excursions with Mrs. Pott, who never
failed, when such an opportunity presented itself, to seek some relief
from the tedious monotony she so constantly complained of. The two
gentlemen being thus completely domesticated in the Editor's house, Mr.
Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass were in a great measure cast upon their own
resources. Taking but little interest in public affairs, they beguiled
their time chiefly with such amusements as the Peacock afforded, which
were limited to a bagatelle-board in the first floor, and a sequestered
skittle-ground in the back yard. In the science and nicety of both
these recreations, which are far more abstruse than ordinary men
suppose, they were gradually initiated by Mr. Weller, who possessed a
perfect knowledge of such pastimes. Thus, notwithstanding that they
were in a great measure deprived of the comfort and advantage of Mr.
Pickwick's society, they were still enabled to beguile the time and to
prevent its hanging heavily on their hands.
It was in the evening, however, that the Peacock presented attractions
which enabled the two friends to resist even the invitations of the
gifted, though prosy, Pott. It was in the evening that the "commercial
room" was filled with a social circle, whose characters and manners it
was the delight of Mr. Tupman to observe; whose sayings and doings it
was the habit of Mr. Snodgrass to note down.
Most people know what sort of places commercial rooms usually are. That
of the Peacock differed in no material respect from the generality of
such apartments; that is to say, it was a large bare-looking room,
the furniture of which had no doubt been better when it was newer,
with a spacious table in the centre, and a variety of smaller dittos
in the corners: an extensive assortment of variously shaped chairs,
and an old Turkey carpet, bearing about the same relative proportion
to the size of the room, as a lady's pocket-handkerchief might to the
floor of a watch-box. The walls were garnished with one or two large
maps; and several weather-beaten rough great-coats, with complicated
capes, dangled from a long row of pegs in one corner. The mantelshelf
was ornamented with a wooden inkstand, containing one stump of a pen
and half a wafer: a road-book and directory: a county history minus
the cover; and the mortal remains of a trout in a glass coffin. The
atmosphere was redolent of tobacco-smoke, the fumes of which had
communicated a rather dingy hue to the whole room, and more especially
to the dusty red curtains which shaded the windows. On the sideboard
a variety of miscellaneous articles were huddled together, the most
conspicuous of which were some very cloudy fish-sauce cruets, a couple
of driving-boxes, two or three whips and as many travelling shawls, a
tray of knives and forks, and the mustard.
Here it was that Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass were seated on the
evening after the conclusion of the election, with several other
temporary inmates of the house, smoking and drinking.
"Well, gents," said a stout, hale personage of about forty, with
only one eye--a very bright black eye, which twinkled with a roguish
expression of fun and good humour, "our noble selves, gents. I always
propose that toast to the company, and drink Mary to myself. Eh, Mary!"
"Get along with you, you wretch," said the handmaiden, obviously not
ill pleased with the compliment, however.
"Don't go away, Mary," said the black-eyed man.
"Let me alone, imperence," said the young lady.
"Never mind," said the one-eyed man, calling after the girl as she left
the room. "I'll step out by-and-by, Mary. Keep your spirits up, dear."
Here he went through the not very difficult process of winking upon
the company with his solitary eye, to the enthusiastic delight of an
elderly personage with a dirty face and a clay pipe.
"Rum creeters is women," said the dirty-faced man after a pause.
"Ah! no mistake about that," said a very red-faced man, behind a cigar.
After this little bit of philosophy there was another pause.
"There's rummer things than women in this world though, mind you," said
the man with the black eye, slowly filling a large Dutch pipe, with a
most capacious bowl.
"Are you married?" inquired the dirty-faced man.
"Can't say I am."
"I thought not." Here the dirty-faced man fell into fits of mirth at
his own retort, in which he was joined by a man of bland voice and
placid countenance, who always made it a point to agree with everybody.
"Women, after all, gentlemen," said the enthusiastic Mr. Snodgrass,
"are the great props and comforts of our existence."
"So they are," said the placid gentleman.
"When they're in a good humour," interposed the dirty-faced man.
"And that's very true," said the placid one.
"I repudiate that qualification," said Mr. Snodgrass, whose thoughts
were fast reverting to Emily Wardle, "I repudiate it with disdain--with
indignation. Show me the man who says anything against women, as women,
and I boldly declare he is not a man." And Mr. Snodgrass took his cigar
from his mouth and struck the table violently with his clenched fist.
"That's good sound argument," said the placid man.
"Containing a position which I deny," interrupted he of the dirty
countenance.
"And there's certainly a very great deal of truth in what you observe
too, sir," said the placid gentleman.
"Your health, sir," said the bagman with the lonely eye, bestowing an
approving nod on Mr. Snodgrass.
Mr. Snodgrass acknowledged the compliment.
"I always like to hear a good argument," continued the bagman, "a
sharp one, like this; it's very improving; but this little argument
about women brought to my mind a story I have heard an old uncle of
mine tell, the recollection of which, just now, made me say there were
rummer things than women to be met with, sometimes."
"I should like to hear that same story," said the red-faced man with
the cigar.
"Should you?" was the only reply of the bagman, who continued to smoke
with great vehemence.
"So should I," said Mr. Tupman, speaking for the first time. He was
always anxious to increase his stock of experience.
"Should _you_? Well then, I'll tell it. No I won't. I know you won't
believe it," said the man with the roguish eye, making that organ look
more roguish than ever.
"If you say it's true, of course I shall," said Mr. Tupman.
"Well, upon that understanding I'll tell you," replied the traveller.
"Did you ever hear of the great commercial house of Bilson and Slum?
But it doesn't matter though, whether you did or not, because they
retired from business long since. It's eighty years ago since the
circumstance happened to a traveller for that house, but he was a
particular friend of my uncle's; and my uncle told the story to me.
It's a queer name; but he used to call it
THE BAGMAN'S STORY
and he used to tell it, something in this way.
"One winter's evening, about five o'clock, just as it began to grow
dusk, a man in a gig might have been seen urging his tired horse along
the road which leads across Marlborough Downs, in the direction of
Bristol. I say he might have been seen, and I have no doubt he would
have been, if anybody but a blind man had happened to pass that way;
but the weather was so bad, and the night so cold and wet, that nothing
was out but the water, and so the traveller jogged along in the middle
of the road, lonesome and dreary enough. If any bagman of that day
could have caught sight of the little neck-or-nothing sort of gig, with
a clay-coloured body and red wheels, and the vixenish, ill-tempered,
fast-going bay mare, that looked like a cross between a butcher's horse
and a two-penny post-office pony, he would have known at once, that
this traveller could have been no other than Tom Smart, of the great
house of Bilson and Slum, Cateaton Street, City. However, as there was
no bagman to look on, nobody knew anything at all about the matter; and
so Tom Smart and his clay-coloured gig with the red wheels, and the
vixenish mare with the fast pace, went on together, keeping the secret
among them: and nobody was a bit the wiser.
"There are many pleasanter places even in this dreary world, than
Marlborough Downs when it blows hard; and if you throw in beside, a
gloomy winter's evening, a miry and sloppy road, and a pelting fall
of heavy rain, and try the effect, by way of experiment, in your own
proper person, you will experience the full force of this observation.
"The wind blew--not up the road or down it, though that's bad enough,
but sheer across it, sending the rain slanting down like the lines they
used to rule in the copybooks at school, to make the boys slope well.
For a moment it would die away, and the traveller would begin to delude
himself into the belief that, exhausted with its previous fury, it had
quietly lain itself down to rest, when, whoo! he would hear it growling
and whistling in the distance, and on it would come rushing over the
hill-tops, and sweeping along the plain, gathering sound and strength
as it drew nearer, until it dashed with a heavy gust against horse
and man, driving the sharp rain into their ears, and its cold damp
breath into their very bones; and past them it would scour, far, far
away, with a stunning roar, as if in ridicule of their weakness, and
triumphant in the consciousness of its own strength and power.
[Illustration: "_No other than Tom Smart_"]
"The bay mare splashed away, through the mud and water, with drooping
ears; now and then tossing her head as if to express her disgust at
this very ungentlemanly behaviour of the elements, but keeping a good
pace notwithstanding, until a gust of wind, more furious than any that
had yet assailed them, caused her to stop suddenly and plant her four
feet firmly against the ground, to prevent her being blown over. It's
a special mercy that she did this, for if she _had_ been blown over,
the vixenish mare was so light, and the gig was so light, and Tom
Smart such a light weight into the bargain, that they must infallibly
have all gone rolling over and over together, until they reached the
confines of earth, or until the wind fell; and in either case the
probability is, that neither the vixenish mare, nor the clay-coloured
gig with the red wheels, nor Tom Smart, would ever have been fit for
service again.
"'Well, damn my straps and whiskers,' says Tom Smart (Tom sometimes had
an unpleasant knack of swearing), 'Damn my straps and whiskers,' says
Tom, 'if this an't pleasant, blow me!'
"You'll very likely ask me why, as Tom Smart had been pretty well blown
already, he expressed this wish to be submitted to the same process
again. I can't say,--all I know is, that Tom Smart said so--or at least
he always told my uncle he said so, and it's just the same thing.
"'Blow me,' says Tom Smart; and the mare neighed as if she were
precisely of the same opinion.
"'Cheer up, old girl,' said Tom, patting the bay mare on the neck with
the end of his whip. 'It won't do pushing on, such a night as this; the
first house we come to we'll put up at, so the faster you go the sooner
it's over. Soho, old girl--gently--gently.'
"Whether the vixenish mare was sufficiently well acquainted with the
tones of Tom's voice to comprehend his meaning, or whether she found
it colder standing still than moving on, of course I can't say. But I
can say that Tom had no sooner finished speaking, than she pricked up
her ears, and started forward at a speed which made the clay-coloured
gig rattle till you would have supposed every one of the red spokes was
going to fly out on the turf of Marlborough Downs; and even Tom, whip
as he was, couldn't stop or check her pace, until she drew up, of her
own accord, before a roadside inn on the right-hand side of the way,
about half a quarter of a mile from the end of the Downs.
"Tom cast a hasty glance at the upper part of the house as he threw
the reins to the hostler, and stuck the whip in the box. It was a
strange old place, built of a kind of shingle, inlaid, as it were, with
cross-beams, with gable-topped windows projecting completely over the
pathway, and a low door with a dark porch, and a couple of steep steps
leading down into the house, instead of the modern fashion of half a
dozen shallow ones leading up to it. It was a comfortable-looking place
though, for there was a strong cheerful light in the bar-window, which
shed a bright ray across the road, and even lighted up the hedge on
the other side; and there was a red flickering light in the opposite
window, one moment but faintly discernible, and the next gleaming
strongly through the drawn curtains, which intimated that a rousing
fire was blazing within. Marking these little evidences with the eye of
an experienced traveller, Tom dismounted with as much agility as his
half-frozen limbs would permit, and entered the house.
"In less than five minutes' time, Tom was ensconced in the room
opposite the bar--the very room where he had imagined the fire
blazing--before a substantial matter-of-fact roaring fire, composed
of something short of a bushel of coals, and wood enough to make half
a dozen decent gooseberry bushes, piled half-way up the chimney, and
roaring and crackling with a sound that of itself would have warmed the
heart of any reasonable man. This was comfortable, but this was not
all, for a smartly dressed girl, with a bright eye and a neat ankle,
was laying a very clean white cloth on the table; and as Tom sat with
his slippered feet on the fender, and his back to the open door, he
saw a charming prospect of the bar reflected in the glass over the
chimney-piece, with delightful rows of green bottles and gold labels,
together with jars of pickles and preserves, and cheeses and boiled
hams, and rounds of beef, arranged on shelves in the most tempting and
delicious array. Well, this was comfortable too; but even this was not
all--for in the bar, seated at tea at the nicest possible little table,
drawn close up before the brightest possible little fire, was a buxom
widow of somewhere about eight-and-forty or thereabouts, with a face as
comfortable as the bar, who was evidently the landlady of the house,
and the supreme ruler over all these agreeable possessions. There was
only one drawback to the beauty of the whole picture, and that was a
tall man--a very tall man--in a brown coat and bright basket buttons,
and black whiskers, and wavy black hair, who was seated at tea with the
widow, and who it required no great penetration to discover was in a
fair way of persuading her to be a widow no longer, but to confer upon
him the privilege of sitting down in that bar, for and during the whole
remainder of the term of his natural life.
"Tom Smart was by no means of an irritable or envious disposition, but
somehow or other the tall man with the brown coat and the bright basket
buttons did rouse what little gall he had in his composition, and did
make him feel extremely indignant: the more especially as he could
now and then observe, from his seat before the glass, certain little
affectionate familiarities passing between the tall man and the widow,
which sufficiently denoted that the tall man was as high in favour as
he was in size. Tom was fond of hot punch--I may venture to say he was
_very_ fond of hot punch--and after he had seen the vixenish mare well
fed and well littered down, and had eaten every bit of the nice little
hot dinner which the widow tossed up for him with her own hands, he
just ordered a tumbler of it, by way of experiment. Now, if there was
one thing in the whole range of domestic art, which the widow could
manufacture better than another, it was this identical article; and
the first tumbler was adapted to Tom Smart's taste with such peculiar
nicety, that he ordered a second with the least possible delay. Hot
punch is a pleasant thing, gentlemen--an extremely pleasant thing under
any circumstances--but in that snug old parlour, before the roaring
fire, with the wind blowing outside till every timber in the old house
creaked again, Tom Smart found it perfectly delightful. He ordered
another tumbler, and then another--I am not quite certain whether he
didn't order another after that--but the more he drank of the hot
punch, the more he thought of the tall man.
"'Confound his impudence!' said Tom to himself, 'what business has
he in that snug bar? Such an ugly villain too!' said Tom. 'If the
widow had any taste, she might surely pick up some better fellow than
that.' Here Tom's eyes wandered from the glass on the chimney-piece,
to the glass on the table; and as he felt himself becoming gradually
sentimental, he emptied the fourth tumbler of punch and ordered a fifth.
"Tom Smart, gentlemen, had always been very much attached to the public
line. It had long been his ambition to stand in a bar of his own, in a
green coat, knee-cords and tops. He had a great notion of taking the
chair at convivial dinners, and he had often thought how well he could
preside in a room of his own in the talking way, and what a capital
example he could set to his customers in the drinking department. All
these things passed rapidly through Tom's mind as he sat drinking the
hot punch by the roaring fire, and he felt very justly and properly
indignant that the tall man should be in a fair way of keeping such an
excellent house, while he, Tom Smart, was as far off from it as ever.
So, after deliberating over the two last tumblers, whether he hadn't a
perfect right to pick a quarrel with the tall man for having contrived
to get into the good graces of the buxom widow, Tom Smart at last
arrived at the satisfactory conclusion that he was a very ill-used and
persecuted individual, and had better go to bed.
"Up a wide and ancient staircase the smart girl preceded Tom, shading
the chamber candle with her hand, to protect it from the currents of
air which in such a rambling old place might have found plenty of room
to disport themselves in, without blowing the candle out, but which did
blow it out nevertheless; thus affording Tom's enemies an opportunity
of asserting that it was he, and not the wind, who extinguished the
candle, and that while he pretended to be blowing it alight again,
he was in fact kissing the girl. Be this as it may, another light
was obtained, and Tom was conducted through a maze of rooms, and a
labyrinth of passages, to the apartment which had been prepared for his
reception, where the girl bade him good night, and left him alone.
"It was a good large room with big closets, and a bed which might have
served for a whole boarding-school, to say nothing of a couple of oaken
presses that would have held the baggage of a small army; but what
struck Tom's fancy most was a strange, grim-looking, high-backed chair,
carved in the most fantastic manner, with a flowered damask cushion,
and the round knobs at the bottom of the legs carefully tied up in red
cloth, as if it had got the gout in its toes. Of any other queer chair,
Tom would only have thought it _was_ a queer chair, and there would
have been an end of the matter; but there was something about this
particular chair, and yet he couldn't tell what it was, so odd and so
unlike any other piece of furniture he had ever seen, that it seemed
to fascinate him. He sat down before the fire, and stared at the old
chair for half an hour;--Deuce take the chair, it was such a strange
old thing, he couldn't take his eyes off it.
"'Well,' said Tom, slowly undressing himself, and staring at the old
chair all the while, which stood with a mysterious aspect by the
bedside, 'I never saw such a rum concern as that in my days. Very odd,'
said Tom, who had got rather sage with the hot punch, 'Very odd.' Tom
shook his head with an air of profound wisdom, and looked at the chair
again. He couldn't make anything of it though, so he got into bed,
covered himself up warm, and fell asleep.
"In about half an hour, Tom woke up, with a start, from a confused
dream of tall men and tumblers of punch: and the first object that
presented itself to his waking imagination was the queer chair.
"'I won't look at it any more,' said Tom to himself, and he squeezed
his eyelids together, and tried to persuade himself he was going to
sleep again. No use; nothing but queer chairs danced before his eyes,
kicking up their legs, jumping over each other's backs, and playing all
kinds of antics.
"'I may as well see one real chair, as two or three complete sets
of false ones,' said Tom, bringing out his head from under the
bed-clothes. There it was, plainly discernible by the light of the
fire, looking as provoking as ever.
"Tom gazed at the chair; and, suddenly as he looked at it, a most
extraordinary change seemed to come over it. The carving of the back
gradually assumed the lineaments and expression of an old shrivelled
human face; the damask cushion became an antique, flapped waistcoat;
the round knobs grew into a couple of feet, encased in red cloth
slippers; and the old chair looked like a very ugly old man, of the
previous century, with his arms a-kimbo. Tom sat up in bed, and
rubbed his eyes to dispel the illusion. No. The chair was an ugly old
gentleman; and what was more, he was winking at Tom Smart.
"Tom was naturally a headlong, careless sort of dog, and he had had
five tumblers of hot punch into the bargain; so, although he was a
little startled at first, he began to grow rather indignant when he saw
the old gentleman winking and leering at him with such an impudent
air. At length he resolved that he wouldn't stand it; and as the old
face still kept winking away as fast as ever, Tom said, in a very angry
tone:
"'What the devil are you winking at me for?'
"'Because I like it, Tom Smart,' said the chair; or the old gentleman,
whichever you like to call him. He stopped winking though, when Tom
spoke, and began grinning like a superannuated monkey.
"'How do you know my name, old nut-cracker face?' inquired Tom Smart,
rather staggered;--though he pretended to carry it off so well.
"'Come, come, Tom,' said the old gentleman, 'that's not the way to
address solid Spanish Mahogany. Damme, you couldn't treat me with less
respect if I was veneered.' When the old gentleman said this, he looked
so fierce that Tom began to grow frightened.
"'I didn't mean to treat you with any disrespect, sir,' said Tom; in a
much humbler tone than he had spoken in at first.
"'Well, well,' said the old fellow, 'perhaps not--perhaps not. Tom----'
"'Sir----'
"'I know everything about you, Tom; everything. You're very poor, Tom.'
"'I certainly am,' said Tom Smart. 'But how came you to know that?'
"'Never mind that,' said the old gentleman; 'you're much too fond of
punch, Tom.'
"Tom Smart was just on the point of protesting that he hadn't tasted a
drop since his last birthday, but when his eye encountered that of the
old gentleman, he looked so knowing that Tom blushed, and was silent.
"'Tom,' said the old gentleman, 'the widow's a fine woman--remarkably
fine woman--eh, Tom?' Here the old fellow screwed up his eyes, cocked
up one of his wasted little legs, and looked altogether so unpleasantly
amorous, that Tom was quite disgusted with the levity of his
behaviour;--at his time of life, too!
"'I am her guardian, Tom,' said the old gentleman.
"'Are you?' inquired Tom Smart.
"'I knew her mother, Tom,' said the old fellow; 'and her grandmother.
She was very fond of me--made me this waistcoat, Tom.'
"'Did she?' said Tom Smart.
"'And these shoes,' said the old fellow lifting up one of the red-cloth
mufflers; 'but don't mention it, Tom. I shouldn't like to have it
known that she was so much attached to me. It might occasion some
unpleasantness in the family.' When the old rascal said this, he looked
so extremely impertinent, that, as Tom Smart afterwards declared, he
could have sat upon him without remorse.
"'I have been a great favourite among the women in my time, Tom,' said
the profligate old debauchee; 'hundreds of fine women have sat in my
lap for hours together. What do you think of that, you dog, eh?' The
old gentleman was proceeding to recount some other exploits of his
youth, when he was seized with such a violent fit of creaking that he
was unable to proceed.
"'Just serves you right, old boy,' thought Tom Smart; but he didn't say
anything.
"'Ah!' said the old fellow, 'I am a good deal troubled with this now. I
am getting old, Tom, and have lost nearly all my rails. I have had an
operation performed, too--a small piece let into my back--and I found
it a severe trial, Tom.'
"'I dare say you did, sir,' said Tom Smart.
"'However,' said the old gentleman, 'that's not the point. Tom! I want
you to marry the widow.'
"'Me, sir!' said Tom.
"'You,' said the old gentleman.
"'Bless your reverend locks,' said Tom--(he had a few scattered
horse-hairs left)--'bless your reverend locks, she wouldn't have me.'
And Tom sighed involuntarily, as he thought of the bar.
"'Wouldn't she?' said the old gentleman, firmly.
"'No, no,' said Tom; 'there's somebody else in the wind. A tall man--a
confoundedly tall man--with black whiskers.'
"'Tom,' said the old gentleman; 'she will never have him.'
"'Won't she?' said Tom. 'If you stood in the bar, old gentleman, you'd
tell another story.'
"'Pooh, pooh,' said the old gentleman. 'I know all about that.'
"'About what?' said Tom.
"'The kissing behind the door, and all that sort of thing, Tom,' said
the old gentleman. And here he gave another impudent look, which made
Tom very wroth, because, as you all know, gentlemen, to hear an old
fellow, who ought to know better, talking about these things, is very
unpleasant--nothing more so.
"'I know all about that, Tom,' said the old gentleman. 'I have seen it
done very often in my time, Tom, between more people than I should like
to mention to you; but it never came to anything after all.'
"'You must have seen some queer things,' said Tom, with an inquisitive
look.
"'You may say that, Tom,' replied the old fellow, with a very
complicated wink. 'I am the last of my family, Tom,' said the old
gentleman, with a melancholy sigh.
"'Was it a large one?' inquired Tom Smart.
"'There were twelve of us, Tom,' said the old gentleman; 'fine,
straight-backed, handsome fellows as you'd wish to see. None of your
modern abortions--all with arms, and with a degree of polish, though
I say it that should not, which would have done your heart good to
behold.'
"'And what's become of the others, sir?' asked Tom Smart.
"The old gentleman applied his elbow to his eye as he replied,
'Gone, Tom, gone. We had hard service, Tom, and they hadn't all my
constitution. They got rheumatic about the legs and arms, and went into
kitchens and other hospitals; and one of 'em, with long service and
hard usage, positively lost his senses:--he got so crazy that he was
obliged to be burnt. Shocking thing that, Tom.'
"'Dreadful!' said Tom Smart.
"The old fellow paused for a few minutes, apparently struggling with
his feelings of emotion, and then said:
"'However, Tom, I am wandering from the point. This tall man, Tom, is a
rascally adventurer. The moment he married the widow, he would sell off
all the furniture, and run away. What would be the consequence? She
would be deserted and reduced to ruin, and I should catch my death of
cold in some broker's shop.'
"'Yes, but----'
"'Don't interrupt me,' said the old gentleman. 'Of you, Tom, I
entertain a very different opinion; for I well know that if you once
settled yourself in a public-house, you would never leave it as long as
there was anything to drink within its walls.'
"'I am very much obliged to you for your good opinion, sir,' said Tom
Smart.
"'Therefore,' resumed the old gentleman, in a dictatorial tone; 'you
shall have her, and he shall not.'
"'What is to prevent it?' said Tom Smart, eagerly.
"'This disclosure,' replied the old gentleman; 'he is already married.'
"'How can I prove it?' said Tom, starting half out of bed.
"The old gentleman untucked his arm from his side, and having pointed
to one of the oaken presses, immediately replaced it in its old
position.
"'He little thinks,' said the old gentleman, 'that in the right-hand
pocket of a pair of trousers in that press, he has left a letter,
entreating him to return to his disconsolate wife, with six--mark me,
Tom--six babes, and all of them small ones.'
"As the old gentleman solemnly uttered these words, his features grew
less and less distinct, and his figure more shadowy. A film came over
Tom Smart's eyes. The old man seemed gradually blending into the chair,
the damask waistcoat to resolve into a cushion, the red slippers to
shrink into little red cloth bags. The light faded gently away, and Tom
Smart fell back on his pillow and dropped asleep.
"Morning aroused Tom from the lethargic slumber into which he had
fallen on the disappearance of the old man. He sat up in bed, and for
some minutes vainly endeavoured to recall the events of the preceding
night. Suddenly they rushed upon him. He looked at the chair; it was a
fantastic and grim-looking piece of furniture, certainly, but it must
have been a remarkably ingenious and lively imagination, that could
have discovered any resemblance between it and an old man.
"'How are you, old boy?' said Tom. He was bolder in the daylight--most
men are.
"The chair remained motionless, and spoke not a word.
"'Miserable morning,' said Tom. No. The chair would not be drawn into
conversation.
"'Which press did you point to?--you can tell me that,' said Tom. Devil
a word, gentlemen, the chair would say.
"'It's not much trouble to open it, anyhow,' said Tom, getting out of
bed very deliberately. He walked up to one of the presses. The key was
in the lock; he turned it, and opened the door. There _was_ a pair of
trousers there. He put his hand into the pocket, and drew forth the
identical letter the old gentleman had described!
"'Queer sort of thing, this,' said Tom Smart; looking first at the
chair and then at the press, and then at the letter, and then at the
chair again. 'Very queer,' said Tom. But, as there was nothing in
either to lessen the queerness, he thought he might as well dress
himself and settle the tall man's business at once--just to put him out
of his misery.
"Tom surveyed the rooms he passed through, on his way down-stairs, with
the scrutinising eye of a landlord; thinking it not impossible that,
before long, they and their contents would be his property. The tall
man was standing in the snug little bar, with his hands behind him,
quite at home. He grinned vacantly at Tom. A casual observer might have
supposed he did it, only to show his white teeth; but Tom Smart thought
that a consciousness of triumph was passing through the place where the
tall man's mind would have been, if he had had any. Tom laughed in his
face; and summoned the landlady.
"'Good morning, ma'am,' said Tom Smart, closing the door of the little
parlour as the widow entered.
"'Good morning, sir,' said the widow. 'What will you take for
breakfast, sir?'
"Tom was thinking how he should open the case, so he made no answer.
"'There's a very nice ham,' said the widow, 'and a beautiful cold
larded fowl. Shall I send 'em in, sir?'
"These words roused Tom from his reflections. His admiration of the
widow increased as she spoke. Thoughtful creature! Comfortable provider!
"'Who is that gentleman in the bar, ma'am?' inquired Tom.
"'His name is Jinkins, sir,' replied the widow, slightly blushing.
"'He's a tall man,' said Tom.
"'He is a very fine man, sir,' replied the widow, 'and a very nice
gentleman.'
"'Ah!' said Tom.
"'Is there anything more you want, sir?' inquired the widow, rather
puzzled by Tom's manner.
"'Why, yes,' said Tom. 'My dear ma'am, will you have the kindness to
sit down for one moment?'
"The widow looked much amazed but she sat down, and Tom sat down too,
close beside her. I don't know how it happened, gentlemen--indeed my
uncle used to tell me that Tom Smart said _he_ didn't know how it
happened either--but somehow or other the palm of Tom's hand fell upon
the back of the widow's hand, and remained there while he spoke.
"'My dear ma'am,' said Tom Smart--he had always a great notion of
committing the amiable--'My dear ma'am, you deserve a very excellent
husband;--you do indeed.'
"'Lor, sir!' said the widow--as well she might; Tom's mode of
commencing the conversation being rather unusual, not to say startling;
the fact of his never having set eyes upon her before the previous
night, being taken into consideration. 'Lor, sir!'
"'I scorn to flatter, my dear ma'am,' said Tom Smart. 'You deserve a
very admirable husband, and whoever he is, he'll be a very lucky man.'
As Tom said this his eye involuntarily wandered from the widow's face,
to the comforts around him.
"The widow looked more puzzled than ever, and made an effort to rise.
Tom gently pressed her hand, as if to detain her, and she kept her
seat. Widows, gentlemen, are not usually timorous, as my uncle used to
say.
"'I am sure I am very much obliged to you, sir, for your good opinion,'
said the buxom landlady, half laughing; 'and if ever I marry again----'
"'_If_,' said Tom Smart, looking very shrewdly out of the right-hand
corner of his left eye. '_If_----'
"'Well,' said the widow, laughing outright this time. '_When_ I do, I
hope I shall have as good a husband as you describe.'
"'Jinkins to wit,' said Tom.
"'Lor, sir!' exclaimed the widow.
"'Oh, don't tell me,' said Tom, 'I know him.'
"'I am sure nobody who knows him, knows anything bad of him,' said the
widow, bridling up at the mysterious air with which Tom had spoken.
"'Hem!' said Tom Smart.
"The widow began to think it was high time to cry, so she took out her
handkerchief, and inquired whether Tom wished to insult her; whether
he thought it like a gentleman to take away the character of another
gentleman behind his back; why, if he had got anything to say, he
didn't say it to the man, like a man, instead of terrifying a poor weak
woman in that way; and so forth.
"'I'll say it to him fast enough,' said Tom, 'only I want you to hear
it first.'
"'What is it?' inquired the widow, looking intently in Tom's
countenance.
"'I'll astonish you,' said Tom, putting his hand in his pocket.
"'If it is, that he wants money,' said the widow, 'I know that already,
and you needn't trouble yourself.'
"'Pooh, nonsense, that's nothing,' said Tom Smart, '_I_ want money.
'Tan't that.'
"'Oh dear, what can it be?' exclaimed the poor widow.
"'Don't be frightened,' said Tom Smart. He slowly drew forth the
letter, and unfolded it. 'You won't scream?' said Tom, doubtfully.
"'No, no,' replied the widow; 'let me see it.'
"'You won't go fainting away, or any of that nonsense?' said Tom.
"'No, no,' returned the widow, hastily.
"'And don't run out, and blow him up,' said Tom, 'because I'll do all
that for you; you had better not exert yourself.'
"'Well, well,' said the widow, 'let me see it.'
"'I will,' replied Tom Smart; and, with these words, he placed the
letter in the widow's hand.
"Gentlemen, I have heard my uncle say, that Tom Smart said, the widow's
lamentations when she heard the disclosure would have pierced a heart
of stone. Tom was certainly very tender-hearted, but they pierced his
to the very core. The widow rocked herself to and fro, and wrung her
hands.
"'Oh, the deception and villainy of man!' said the widow.
"'Frightful, my dear ma'am; but compose yourself,' said Tom Smart.
"'Oh, I can't compose myself,' shrieked the widow. 'I shall never find
any one else I can love so much!'
"'Oh yes, you will, my dear soul,' said Tom Smart, letting fall a
shower of the largest sized tears, in pity for the widow's misfortunes.
Tom Smart, in the energy of his compassion, had put his arm round the
widow's waist; and the widow, in a passion of grief, had clasped Tom's
hand. She looked up in Tom's face, and smiled through her tears. Tom
looked down in hers, and smiled through his.
"I never could find out, gentlemen, whether Tom did or did not kiss the
widow at that particular moment. He used to tell my uncle he didn't,
but I have my doubts about it. Between ourselves, gentlemen, I rather
think he did.
"At all events, Tom kicked the very tall man out at the front door half
an hour after, and married the widow a month after. And he used to
drive about the country, with the clay-coloured gig with red wheels,
and the vixenish mare with the fast pace, till he gave up business many
years afterwards, and went to France with his wife; and then the old
house was pulled down."
* * * * *
"Will you allow me to ask you," said the inquisitive old gentleman,
"what became of the chair?"
"Why," replied the one-eyed bagman, "it was observed to creak very
much on the day of the wedding; but Tom Smart couldn't say for certain
whether it was with pleasure or bodily infirmity. He rather thought it
was the latter, though, for it never spoke afterwards."
[Illustration: _"She looked up in Tom's face and smiled through her
tears."_]
"Everybody believed the story, didn't they?" said the dirty-faced man,
refilling his pipe.
"Except Tom's enemies," replied the bagman. "Some of 'em said Tom
invented it altogether; and others said he was drunk, and fancied it,
and got hold of the wrong trousers by mistake before he went to bed.
But nobody ever minded what _they_ said."
"Tom said it was all true?"
"Every word."
"And your uncle?"
"Every letter."
"They must have been very nice men, both of 'em," said the dirty-faced
man.
"Yes, they were," replied the bagman; "very nice men indeed."