MR. TOOSYPEGS.
"He bears him like a portly gentleman;
And, to say truth, Vernon brags of him
To be a virtuous and well-governed youth."
--SHAKSPEARE.
The vehicle that the gipsy had heard approaching was a light wagon drawn
by two swift horses. It had two seats capable of holding four persons,
though the front seat alone was now occupied.
The first of these (for his age claims the precedence) was a short,
stout, burly, thick-set, little man, buttoned up in a huge great-coat,
suffering under a severe eruption of capes and pockets. An immense fur
cap, that, by its antediluvian looks, might have been worn by Noah's
grandfather, adorned his head, and was pulled so far down on his face
that nothing was visible but a round, respectable-looking bottle-nose,
and a pair of small, twinkling gray eyes. This individual, who was also
the driver, rejoiced in the cognomen of Mr. Bill Harkins, and made it
his business to take belated wayfarers to London (either by land or
water), when arriving too late for the regular conveyances. On the
present occasion his sole freight consisted of a young gentleman with a
brilliant-hued carpet-bag, glowing with straw-colored roses and
dark-blue lilies, rising from a back-ground resembling London smoke. The
young gentleman was a very remarkable young gentleman indeed. He was
exceedingly tall and thin, with legs like a couple of pipe-stems, and a
neck so long and slender that it reminded you of a gander's, and made
you tremble for the safety of the head balanced on such a frail support.
His hair and complexion were both of that indefinite color known to the
initiated as "whity brown"--the latter being profusely sprinkled with
large yellow freckles, and the former as straight and sleek as bear's
grease could make it. For the rest, he was characterized by nothing in
particular, but for being the possessor of a pair of large, pale-blue
eyes, not remarkable for either brilliancy or expression, and for
wearing the meekest possible expression, of countenance. He might have
been eighteen years old, as far as years went; but his worldly wisdom
was by no means equal to his years.
"By jingo! that 'ere was a blast!" said Mr. Harkins, bending his head as
a gale swept shrieking by.
"Yes, it _does_ blow, but _I_ don't mind it--I'm very much obliged to
you," said the pale young man, with the white hair and freckles, holding
his carpet-bag in his arms, as if it were a baby.
"Who said you did?" growled Bill Harkins. "You'll be safe in Lunnon in
half an 'our, while I'll be a-drivin' back through this 'ere win' and
rain, getting wetted right through. If you don't mind it, _I_ does, Mr.
Toosypegs."
"Mr. Harkins," said Mr. Toosypegs, humbly, "I'm very sorry to put you to
so much trouble, I'm sure, but if two extra crowns--"
"Mr. Toosypegs," interrupted Mr. Harkins, with a sudden burst of
feeling, "give us yer hand; yer a trump. It's easy to be perceived, them
as is gentlemen from them as isn't. You're one o' the right sort;
oughter to be a lord, by jingo! Get up, hold lazybones," said Mr.
Harkins, touching the near-wheeler daintily with his whip.
"Mr. Harkins, it's very good of you to say so, and I'm very much obliged
to you, I'm sure," said Mr. Toosypegs, gratefully; "but, at the same
time, if you'll please to recollect. I'm an American, and consequently
couldn't be a lord. There aren't any lords over in America, Mr. Harkins;
though if there was, I dare say I would be one. It's real kind of you to
wish it, though, and I'm much obliged to you," added Mr. Toosypegs, with
emotion.
"Hamerica must be a hodd sorter place," said Mr. Harkins, reflectively.
"I've heern tell that your king--"
"He isn't a king, Mr. Harkins; he's only the President," broke in Mr.
Toosypegs, with energy.
"Well, President, then," said Mr. Harkins, adopting the amendment with a
look of disgust. "I've heern they call him 'mister,' jest like hany
hother man."
"So they do; and he glories in the triumphant title--a title which, as
an American citizen's, is a prouder one than that of king or kaiser!"
said Mr. Toosypegs, enthusiastically, while he repeated the sentence he
had read out of a late novel: "'It is a title for which emperors might
lay down their scepters--for which potentates might doff the royal
purple--for which the great ones of the earth might--a--might'"--Mr.
Toosypegs paused and knit his brows, having evidently lost his cue.
"Kick the bucket!" suggested Mr. Harkins, coming to his aid.
"Mr. Harkins, I'm very much obliged to you; but that wasn't exactly the
word," said Mr. Toosypegs, politely, "'Might'--oh, yes!--'might resign
name and fame, and dwell under the shadow of the American eagle, whose
glorious wings extend to the four quarters of the earth, and before
whose soul-piercing eye the nations of the world must blush
forevermore!'"
And Mr. Toosypegs, carried away by national enthusiasm, gave his arm
such a flourish that it came in contact with the head of Mr. Harkins,
and set more stars dancing before his eyes than there would have been
had the night been ever so fine.
The outraged Mr. Harkins indignantly sprung round, and collared Mr.
Toosypegs, whose complexion had turned from whity-brown to gray, with
terror, and whose teeth chattered with mingled shame and fear.
"You himpertanent wagabond!" shouted Mr. Harkins, "to go for to strike
a hunnoffending man like that! Blessed! if I hain't a good mind to chuck
yer 'ead fust hout the waggin."
"Mr. Har--Har--Harkins," stammered the half-strangled advocate of the
American eagle, "I didn't mean to do it, I'm very much obliged to you! I
do assure you, Mr. Harkins, I hadn't the faintest idea of hitting you;
and if money--"
"How much?" demanded Mr. Harkins, fiercely, looking bayonets at his
trembling victim.
"Mr. Harkins, if five or even ten dollars--"
"Which is how many pounds?" demanded the somewhat mollified Mr. Harkins.
"Two pounds sterling," said Mr. Toosypegs, in a trembling falsetto; "and
I do assure you, Mr. Harkins, I hadn't the faintest idea of hitting you
that time. If two pound--"
"Done!" cried Mr. Harkins. "Never say it ag'in. I ain't a man to bear
spite at no one--which is a Christian maxim, Mr. Toosypegs. A clip side
the head's neither here nor there. Same time, I'll take them two-pound
flimsies now, if's all the same to you?"
"Certainly--certainly, Mr. Harkins," said Mr. Toosypegs, drawing out a
purse well-filled with gold, and opening it nervously. "Three--five--ten
dollars, and two for the drive's twelve; and one to buy sugar-plums for
your infant family--if you've got such a thing about you--is thirteen.
Here's thirteen dollars, Mr. Harkins. I'm very much obliged to you."
"Same to you, Mr. Toosypegs," said Mr. Harkins, pocketing the money,
with a broad grin. "'May you ne'er want a frien,' nor a bottle to give
him,' as the poic says."
"Mr. Harkins, I'm obliged to you," said Mr. Toosypegs, grasping his
hand, which Mr. Harkins resigned with a grunt. "You have a soul, Mr.
Harkins. I know it--I feel it. Everybody mightn't find it out; but I
can--I perceived it from the first."
Mr. Harkins heard this startling fact with the greatest indifference,
merely saying, "Humph!"
"And now, how far do you suppose we are from the city, Mr. Harkins!"
said Mr. Toosypegs, in his most insinuating tone.
"'Bout a mile or so."
"Could you recommend any hotel to me, Mr. Harkins. I'm a stranger in the
city, you know, and should feel grateful if you would," said Mr.
Toosypegs, humbly.
"Why, yes, I can," said Mr. Harkins, brightening suddenly up. "There's
the 'Blue Pig,' one of the finest 'otels in Lunnon, with the best o'
'commodations for man and beast. You've heern o' the 'Blue Pig' over
there in Hamerica, hain't you?"
Mr. Toosypegs wasn't sure. It was very likely he had; but, owing to his
bad memory, he had forgotten.
"Well, anyhow, you won't find many 'otels to beat that 'ere. Best o'
'commodation--but I told you that hafore."
"Where is it located?" asked Mr. Toosypegs.
"St. Giles. You know where that is, in course--hevery-body does. The
nicest 'otel in Lunnon--best o' 'commodations. But I told you that
hafore. My hold frien' Bruisin' Bob keeps it. You'll like it, I know."
"Yes, Mr. Harkins, I dare say I will. I am very much obliged to you,"
said Mr. Toosypegs, in a somewhat dubious tone.
"That 'ere man's the greatest cove a-goin'," said Mr. Harkins, getting
enthusiastic. "Been married ten times if he's been married once. One
wife died; one left his bread-board, and run hoff with a hofficer
dragoon; one was lagged for stealin' wipes, and he's got three livin' at
this present writin'. Great fellar is Bob."
"I haven't the slightest doubt of it, Mr. Harkins," said the proprietor
of the freckles, politely; "and I anticipate a great deal of pleasure in
making the acquaintance of your friends, Mr. and Mrs. Bob. But, good
gracious! Mr. Harkins, just look there--if that ain't a woman hurrying
on there after," said Mr. Toosypegs, pointing, in intense surprise, to
the form of the gipsy, as she darted swiftly away from the cottage.
"Well, what o' that? Some tramper a-goin' to Lunnon," said Mr. Harkins,
gruffly.
"But, Mr. Harkins, a woman out in such a storm at this hour of the
night! Why, it ain't right," said Mr. Toosypegs, getting excited.
Mr. Harkins picked up his hat, turned down the collar of his coat,
faced abruptly round, and looked Mr. Toosypegs straight in the eyes.
"Do call to her to get in, Mr. Harkins. There's plenty of room for her
on the back seat," said Mr. Toosypegs, unheeding Mr. Harkins' astounded
look at his philanthropy. "A woman traveling on foot in such a storm!
Why, it ain't right!" repeated Mr. Toosypegs, getting still more
excited.
"Mr. Toosypegs, Hamericans don't never be a little hout their mind, do
they?" said Mr. Harkins, blandly.
"Not often, Mr. Harkins, I'm very much obliged to you," said Mr.
Toosypegs, with his customary politeness.
"Because if they did, you know," said Mr. Harkins, in the same bland
tone, "I should say you wasn't quite right yourself, you know!"
"Good gracious! Mr. Harkins, what do you mean?" exclaimed Mr. Toosypegs,
in a tone of mild remonstrance. "You don't think I'm crazy, do you?"
"Mr. Toosypegs, I don't like to be personal; so I'll only say it's my
private opinion you're a brick!" said Mr. Harkins, mildly. "Perhaps,
though, its the hair of Hingland wot doesn't agree with you. I thought
you was wery sensible a little w'ile ago, when you gin me them two
poun'."
"I'm very much obliged to you for your good opinion, Mr. Harkins," said
Mr. Toosypegs, blushing. "And if you'll only call to that woman to get
into the wagon, I'll be still more so."
"And have your pockets picked?" said Mr. Harkins, sharply. "I shan't do
no sich thing."
"Mr. Harkins!" said Mr. Toosypegs, warmly, "she's a woman--ain't she?"
"Well, wot if she be?" said Mr. Harkins, sullenly.
"Why, that no woman should be walking at this hour when men are riding;
more particularly when there is a back seat with nobody in it. Why, it
ain't right!" said Mr. Toosypegs, who seemed unable to get beyond this
point.
"Well, I don't care!" said Mr. Harkins, snappishly. "Do you s'pose, Mr.
Toosypegs, I have nothing to do but buy waggins to kerry sich lumber as
that 'ere? I won't do it for no one. Likely as not she's nothin' but a
gipsy, or something as bad. This 'ere waggin ain't goin' to be perluted
with no sich trash."
"Mr. Harkins," said Mr. Toosypegs, briskly, thrusting his hand into his
pocket, "what will you take and bring her to London?"
"Hey? 'A fool and his money'--hum! What'll you give?"
"There's a crown."
"Done!" said Mr. Harkins, closing his digits on the coin, while his
little eyes snapped. "Hullo! you, woman!" he shouted, rising his voice.
The gipsy--who, though but a yard or so ahead, was indistinguishable in
the darkness--sped on without paying the slightest attention to his
call.
"Hallo, there! Hallo!" again called Mr. Harkins, while Mr. Toosypegs
followed him:
"Stop a moment, if you please, madam."
But neither for the sharp, surly order of the driver, nor the bland,
courteous request of Mr. Toosypegs, did the woman stop. Casting a brief,
fleeting glance over her shoulder, she again flitted on.
"You confounded old witch! Stop and take a ride to town--will you?"
yelled the polite and agreeable Mr. Harkins, holding up a dark lantern
and reining in his horse by the woman's side.
The dark, stern face, with its fierce, black eyes and wildly-streaming
hair, was turned, and a hard, deep voice asked what he wanted.
"A gipsy! I knew it!" muttered Mr. Harkins, shrinking involuntarily from
her lurid glances. "Ugh! What a face! Looks like the witch in the play?"
Then aloud: "Get in, ma'am, and I'll take ye to town."
"Go play your jokes on some one else," said the woman, curtly, turning
away.
"I ain't a-jokin'. Nice time o' night this to stop and play jokes--ain't
it?" said Mr. Harkins, in a tone of intense irony. "This 'ere young man,
which is a Hamerican from the New Knighted States, has paid yer fare to
Lunnon outer his hown blessed pocket. So jump in, and don't keep me
waitin' here in the wet."
"Is what he says true?" said the dark woman, turning the sharp light of
her stiletto-like eyes on the freckles and pale-blue eyes of
good-natured Mr. Toosypegs.
"Yes, ma'am. I'm happy to say it is," said Mr. Toosypegs. "Allow me to
hand you in."
And Mr. Toosypegs got up to fulfill his offer; but Dobbin at that moment
gave the wagon a malicious jerk, and dumped our patriotic American back
in his seat. Before he could recover his breath, the gipsy had declined
his assistance, with a wave of her hand, and had entered the wagon
unassisted, and taken her seat.
"I know that tramper," said Mr. Harkins in a nervous whisper to Mr.
Toosypegs. "It's the gipsy queen, Ketura, from Yetholm; most wonderful
woman that ever was, 'cept Deborah, the woman the Bible tells about, you
know, wot druv the nail through the fellar's head when she found him
takin' a snooze. Heard a minister take her for his tex' once, and preach
all about it. Our cow's name's Deborah, too," said Mr. Harkins,
absently.
"And she's a gipsy queen? Lord bless us!" exclaimed Mr. Toosypegs,
turning round and looking in some alarm at the fixed, stern, dark face
before him--like the face of a statue in bronze. "Does she tell
fortunes?"
"Yes; but you'd better not hask her to-night," said Mr. Harkins, in the
same cautious whisper. "Her son's in prison, and sentenced to
transportation for life for robbin' the plate of the Hearl De Courcy.
He's goin' off with a lot of hothers airly to-morrow mornin'. Now, don't
go exclaiming that way;" said Mr. Harkins, in a tone expressive of
disgust, as he gave his companion a dig in the side.
"Poor thing! poor thing!" said Mr. Toosypegs, in a tone of sympathy.
"Why, it's too bad; it really is, Mr. Harkins."
"Sarved him right, it's my opinion," said Mr. Harkins, sententiously.
"Wot business had he for to go for to rob Hearl de Courcy, I want ter
know? His mother, the hold lady ahind here, went and sot him up for a
gentleman, and see wot's come hof hit. She, a hold gipsy queen, goin'
and sendin' her son to Heton with hall the young lordses, and
baronetses, and dukeses, and makin' believe he was somethin' above the
common. And now see what her fine gentleman's gone and done and come to.
Wonder wot she'll think of herself, when she sees him takin' a sea
voyage for the good of his 'ealth at the 'spense of the government,
to-morrow?"
"Poor thing! poor thing!" said Mr. Toosypegs, looking deeply sorry.
"Poor hold thing hindeed!" said Mr. Harkins, turning up his nose
contemptuously. "Sarved 'im right, I say ag'in. That 'ere son o' hern
was the most stuck-hup chap I ever clapped my two blessed heyes on.
Hafter he left Heton, I see'd 'im, one day, in the streets, hand guess
who with? W'y, with nobody less than young Lord Williers, honly son o'
the Hearl De Courcy, as he has gone and robbed. There's hingratitude for
you! I didn't know 'im then; but I 'cognized him hafterward in the
court-room hat 'is trial."
"How could _he_ afford to go to Eton--he, a gipsy?" said Mr. Toosypegs,
in surprise.
"Dunno! Hold woman sent 'im, I s'pose--'owever she got the money. He was
a fine-looking fellow, too, I must say, though rayther tawny, but
'andsome as Lord Williers himself. Hold Ketura was 'andsome once, too;
see'd 'er w'en she was a reg'lar hout-and-hout beauty; though you
mightn't think it now. Times changes folks, yer know," said Mr. Harkins,
in a moralizing tone.
"What made him steal, if his mother was so rich?" said Mr. Toosypegs.
"His mother wasn't rich no more'n I be. S'pose she made enough tellin'
fortunes, poachin', and stealin' to pay fur'im at school; hand then when
he growed hup, and his cash gave out, he took hand stole the hearl's
plate. He denied it hall hat 'is trial; but then they hall do that. By
jingo! he looked fierce enough to knock the judge and jury, and all the
rest on 'em, hinto the middle hof next week, hif not further, that day.
'Twas no go, though; hand hover the water he goes to-morrow."
"Poor fellow! Mr. Harkins, I'm sorry for him--I really am," said Mr.
Toosypegs, in a tone of real sincerity.
Mr. Harkins burst into a gruff laugh.
"Well, hif this ain't good! Wot fools folks is! Sorry for a cove yer
never saw! Wonder hif hall Hamericans is as green as you be?"
After this sentence, which came out in a series of little jerks, with
strong notes of admiration appended to each, Mr. Harkins relapsed into
silence and the collar of his great-coat, and began whistling "The
Devil Among the Tailors," in a voice like a frog with the influenza.
They were now rapidly approaching the city--the loud crash and din of
which had somewhat subsided, owing to the inclemency of the weather and
the lateness of the hour. The gipsy, who had not heard a word of the
foregoing conversation--it having been carried on in a prudently-subdued
tone--had wrapped her coarse cloak closer around her, while the gaze of
her devouring eyes grew more intense, as the lights of the city began to
appear. One by one, they came gleaming out through the dense fog with
bug-like stars here and there; and in every direction.
The city was gained; and they were soon in the very midst of the great,
throbbing heart of mighty London.
The wagon stopped, and Mr. Toosypegs sprung out to assist the woman to
alight.
But waving him away with an impatient motion, she sprung out unassisted,
and without one word or look of thanks, turned and flitted away in the
chill night wind.
"There! I knowed that would be all the thanks ye'd get," said Mr.
Harkins, with a hoarse chuckle. "Hoff she goes, and you'll never see her
again."
"Well, that don't matter any. I didn't want thanks, I'm sure," said the
kind-hearted Mr. Toosypegs. "Good-by, Mr. Harkins. Give my respects to
Mrs. Harkins."
"Good-night, hold fellar," said Mr. Harkins, giving Mr. Toosypegs' hand
a cordial shake. "You're a brick! How I'd like to come hacross one like
you hev'ry night! Go right to Bob's, sign o' the 'Blue Pig,' St. Giles,
best o' 'commodation for man and beast; but I told you that before. Tell
Bob I sent you, and I'll call and see you in a few days."
"You're very good, Mr. Harkins. I'll certainly tell Mr. Bob so when I
see him!" said Mr. Toosypegs, with a severe twinge of conscience at the
deception he felt himself to be using; "and I'll be very glad to see you
whenever you call. I'm very much obliged to you."