meeting led to an evening's entertainment, tolerably humoursome, but
something "pretty-missy" for a stark man like me. I was newly come from
the Bath Road with my purse full of king's pictures, to the which I
had added on Turnham Green without so much as a thought of it. 'Twas
fallen dark of a foul December evening, and, as I was riding for town,
I missed the road and Calypso floundered into a bog of water and mire.
With a curse I pulled her out, when just at that moment I heard a voice
crying out a little way off. The common oozed mud, for the rain had
been falling heavily, but I pushed the mare across in the direction of
the voice, and there was another that had fallen into my plight, but
much worse. For a chaise had wandered off the road and was axle-deep in
a pond that spreads on the common.
"Help!" says the voice.
"That I will! Help you and myself, too," says I; and I gave a hand to
the coachman and together we got the carriage to land.
"I am much in your debt, sir," says the master of it when we were
done--a smug-speaking sort of fellow whose face I could not see. "You
have placed Samuel Hogg, haberdasher, of Bristol, under obligations,"
he said pompously.
"Oh, you are in my debt, 'tis no doubt," says I, laughing, "but, rip
me, you won't be long;" and at that I delivered him of a pile of gold
guineas, and turned my back on his entreaties and objurgations.
When I was come to town I put up at my favourite inn and where I am
known, and on the next day I set out for Polly Scarlet's. But when I
got there, there was my poor girl abed with a swollen cheek. So, says
I, giving her good cheer and a certain trinket that I had for her, I
will make the best of my way to Soho and see if, maybe, some of the
lads be assembled. But I had got no further than the Minories, when who
should emerge into sight in the company of two officers, but Timothy
Grubbe, that rascally thief-taker, crimp and scoundrel. I am not to be
frightened by any man on earth, but 'twas wise to go shy of Timothy and
his friends at that time; so ere they had a sight of me I turned my
back on them and slipped in at the Magpie tavern. Here was a warm room
and comfortable, and the wine, when mulled, was passable, though sour.
So I tossed off a draught and says to the wench, ironically,--
"To bring out the flavour of this tap, I'll eat cheese, my dear. 'Tis a
wine worth testing," says I.
Thereat she fetched me cheese, and stood staring on a ring that she
wore on her finger, a little in the shadow. Well, I sat idly there,
sipping at my glass, for 'twas pleasant enough, and quiet. 'Twas
a bare, empty tap, as it chanced, and the wench and I had it to
ourselves. She was a pretty sort of figure, all in white--white mob and
white apron; of a middle height and slightness pleasant in so young
a maid, brisk of eye, quick of face, and with a certain abruptness
of chin. She stood, as I say, staring on a ring, in a brooding
seriousness, and then of a sudden she uttered a little sob and rushed
her apron to her eye.
"Whoa!" says I. "Whoa there, mare," speaking softly enough, but she
started up and turned about, so that her face was no longer in the
light, and so remained a little while.
"Come, my pretty," said I in a good-humoured way. "Wash no colour from
that blue. I'll warrant 'tis admired, and rightly. If there's any huff
or bully that breeds those dew-drops give me his name, and on my word,
I'll make carrion of him."
At that she turned to me again, holding herself erect, and her eyes
discharged at me a glance. 'Twas not one of haughtiness merely, but
rather one in which fear and defiance and anger rubbed shoulders. One
might have said, indeed, that all these sentiments rained together from
her pretty peepers. But then she dropped her head as quickly, and
affected her interest in the bottles or the casks or something else in
the distance.
"Why," says I, "I will even taste once more that delectable bin," and
she came forth, reluctant, to fill my glass again. "Now," says I, when
I had her there, "you're a girl of spirit; rip me, what's amiss?"
"Sir?" she says with a glare in her face.
"Come, if every pretty filly used her hind legs so hard," said I with a
laugh, "what room would be left in the stalls?"
She said no word but went about her business, the which, as I am not
used to rebuffs either from man, madam, or maid, nettled me; but I know
such wildings; they be not pigeons nor doves nor tame sparrows neither.
I must lime her with another manner; so I altered my voice, and says I,
in a pleasant, but masterful, tone,--
"You must not think me any Peeping Tom," I said, "to twist his eyes on
you and badger you. Tears spoil that handsome cheek, and I would know
if there be no remedy. I cannot abide to see youth and beauty weeping."
She had turned her head now, and gave me a searching glance. "'Tis
naught you could help in, sir," she says with some demureness, and
then broke out, "'tis along of my aunt. She has put upon me and treated
me ill."
"A hag of an aunt," says I sympathetically, "to bruise one so tender
and so dutiful, I'll swear."
"Yes, 'tis so," says she, now with some confidence, and wagging her
little head towards me. "She knows not when she is well-served--that
she doth not."
"I'll take oath of that," says I.
"I am daughter to her husband's sister, sir," said she, running on
glibly by this time, "and Cousin Tom is sib to me."
"Why, for sure, if he be your cousin," said I.
"And when my mother died," she said, taking no heed, "uncle says I must
live with him, and there have I lived all these years."
"None so many, rip me," says I, handsomely.
"He has had good service out of me," she said, casting me a glance, as
of one who would assert her rights. "There have I worked for my Aunt
Susan and cast up figures for uncle, and no thanks given me--no, not a
crown's worth all these years."
"A sorry pair of skinflints," said I, nodding. "But I would not cry
tears on them, not I, if I was a spirited wench."
"'Tis not that," says she, weeping anew. "'Tis that I am turned out of
doors; they will not have me more."
"Why, how is that?" I asked, whereat she looked demure as a saint, and
says she,--
"Oh, 'twas but nothing. 'Twas Cousin Tom."
And it appeared that Cousin Tom had set calf's eyes on her, and that
his mother destined him for better things; so that the wench must quit,
though she kept the tally for nunkie and the house for aunt.
"Well," says I, "'tis a piece of injustice, my dear, and that I'll
swear to. Love you this Tom?"
Whereat she hesitated, and stammered, and turned aside her face, and
then heaved up her pretty shoulders.
"He is so silly," says she.
"Why, that is the right kind of silliness for a maid, I'll take oath,"
said I.
But she said nothing, so I tossed a guinea on the table, for I had just
taken a fancy to a little entertainment, having nothing to do and being
at a loose end by reason of Polly.
"There's that will pay for a bottle of wine," said I, "the which I will
put under my jacket by your leave, mistress. And I will be the one to
pull you out of your despair."
She looked at me in surprise.
"Oh, I have an eye for a wench," said I, "and I know virtue when it
peeps out. And if so be you want Tom, rip me, you shall have him."
"I do not understand you, sir," said she, still wondering.
"See you here, mistress," says I, with a wink, "if you was known to
be in the expectation of money," says I, "maybe auntie would sing to
another tune."
"Yes," said she, with her mouth open and her eyes.
"Very well," said I, "a gentlemanly haberdasher has clapped eyes on a
pretty miss and taken a fancy to her for a daughter."
She stared at me.
"Say that here sits the haberdasher," said I, cocking an eye at her, "a
gentlemanly haberdasher that is a widower and is peaking for a daughter
that he will never get," says I, "what says auntie and nunkie now?"
She met my glance and presently hers fell. I could see she was quick of
wit and took me now.
"But, sir, I do not know who you be," said she, demurely, and fidgeting
with her apron.
"Oh, we will better that," says I, remembering of the man on Turnham
Green. "Call me Samuel Hogg," said I, "godly Samuel Hogg, of Bristol,
that wants a daughter all to himself and is willing to leave her a
hundred guineas for a dowry and a thousand on his deathbed."
Her lips parted and her eyes gleamed. Then she gave me a shrewd glance,
for she was no fool, and at last she smiled.
"You are very kind," said she.
"Pooh!" said I, emptying the bottle. "You may say that when I see you
this evening and confront 'em."
"Confront 'em," she said.
"D'ye suppose I will not pursue that which I propose?" I asked. "I will
see auntie, nunkie and all, and so you may warn 'em. The gentlemanly
haberdasher, rip me, will visit 'em to-night, for to beg their niece of
'em."
'Twas on that understanding we parted, though I believe the girl
thought me gone in liquor and talking foolishly. But that I was not, as
she discovered, for I meant to go through with the jest and help a poor
female against her shrew of an aunt at the same time.
So that evening when it had fallen dark, sure enough, I presented
myself before the Magpie, clothed very old and sober and with a wig
to suit, and knocked for admittance. Well, there were they assembled
to meet me (for the wench had done her part), looking very expectant
and all in a flutter. There was uncle that was broad and short and
of a weak cast of face with a grin on it, and by him was aunt, prim
and stiff, but the vinegar of her face sugared over with a smile;
and to these were added Cousin Tom, a lubberly big fellow with a
booby expression, and a couple more. Why, had I not been used to
distinguished company I might have turned white of trembling and
bashfulness before them. But as it was, the more the merrier, and, says
I, with a congee to aunt,--
"By your leave, madam."
"Sir," says she, "our niece Nancy has acquainted us with your story;"
at which, thinks I, "'Egad I'm glad I know her name," the which I had
misremembered to ask.
"She hath done me honour, mistress," I replied, polite as a pea. "And
since you know why I am here, faith, let us sit down and discuss of it."
Uncle sat down, blinking rapidly at us, and a little fat man in the
corner eyed me curiously.
"Your sister's daughter, my good man?" says I to uncle, with a
benevolent smile. He nodded.
"And a very precious daughter she has been to us, sir," says aunt with
a sort of whine.
Now that kind fairly makes my stomach queasy, and, moreover, I guessed
what she was after. She meant to pull a long face on parting with her
niece, with an eye to money.
"I hope," said I, suavely, "that she will prove a precious daughter to
me in good time."
"That depends," says the little fat man, who, it seems, was a grocer.
"Ay, that depends," says the remaining person in the room, a thin,
elderly woman.
"Well," said I, annoyed at this intervention, "it depends on whether
miss here suits me. I will confess she has took my fancy, and I have
room for her."
"You want to adopt Nancy?" says the aunt.
"'Tis my intention," I answered plump.
"May we ask what set the notion in your head?" says the grocer from his
corner.
"Faith you may," said I, "and 'tis easy said. For walking down the
Minories yesterday, whom did I spy but a handsome miss with as two
pretty eyes as ever sparkled in a wench's face. 'She's for me,' says I
to myself, 'she'll suit my town house like a linnet or a piping lark.
I'll warrant she's all sunshine.'"
At that I thought they looked on me with some suspicion, and, perish
me, I believe I had spoken too warmly, for she was dainty enough.
"Oh!" says aunt, faintly, and glanced at her husband, as if inviting
him to speak, but he sat smoking.
"My niece says you are a godly man, sir?" she pursued.
"Godly," says I, "is not the word. I cry second to none if it comes to
church and prayers."
She looked astonished at that, but 'twas the grocer who spoke next.
"'Tis a strange matter," he said, "that you should have took so great a
fancy to Miss Nancy here. It may be, as you say, that you would adopt
her, yet you are young for a daughter."
"Young!" said I, "why, I be ancient enough. I have gone through enough
in my time to fetch out grey hairs in bunches. There was my poor wife
that died ten years gone, and my daughter that followed her in the
flower of her youth, to whom miss hath a most singular likeness. 'Twas
that attracted me."
"You are a haberdasher, sir?" says the thin woman.
"'Tis my calling," I replied.
"Ah," she sighed. "And so 'twas my poor husband's that is at rest."
"He was engaged in an honourable trade," said I.
"You say truly. That he was," she assented, sighing.
But here uncle spoke for the first time. He was clearly no man of
words, but the fat grocer had been whispering in his ears.
"We should want some warranty," said he.
"Warranty," said I indignantly. "There's my name, Samuel Hogg, of
Bristol, and, for the rest, if it is the colour you wish, why I can
satisfy you," and I brought out a purse full of King's pictures.
I could see that their eyes glistened.
"You seem well endowed," said the grocer.
"Ay, and 'tis all at the disposal of Miss Nancy, when I am in my gloomy
tomb," said I.
But the grocer whispered to the widow, and she to aunt, and they
glanced askance at me. So, as matters were not going forward to my
taste, I got up and said I,--
"It seems that suspicions rule here. I am the target of eyes. Rip me, I
carry not my wares to a market that fancies me not, and so I will bid
you good evening."
But that shook them. "Stay, sir," says the aunt, "I am sure we may be
pardoned if we hesitate to lose one so dear to us. 'Tis a new idea, and
we must get used to it."
"Why," said I, smiling, for I could see the drift of her thoughts,
"there is no haste. You shall satisfy yourself of what I promise. 'Tis
but the preliminary to my design. I will not pluck your partridge from
you roughly--not I. But I would have her remain with you during my
preparations, and only ask that I may present her with that which shall
fit her out as becomes one who is to do honour to my house and me."
And with that I opened the purse and counted out ten golden guineas.
Miss Nancy gazed wide-eyed, and there was a little silence among the
others, save that uncle started and rubbed his eyes, and cried, "The
devil!"
But 'twas enough for them. Auntie melted like a snowball in the sun;
the grocer pursed up his lips; and the widow regarded me with wonder.
Booby, in his corner, gave vent to a silly chuckle.
"Well, that's fair," said uncle hastily, and, at that, supper being
ready, I was invited to join them.
Now this was the time that I should have taken to go, for I had done
what I promised; but I had nothing to attract me that night, and,
moreover, I was for pushing the fun a little further. Lord, if Tony or
old Creech could have seen me a-sitting there, in such company, with an
adopted daughter on my hands, 'twould have made them split their sides.
So says I,--
"At your service, and thank ye;" and down we sat to the table.
As chance would have it I was set alongside of the widow, and on
t'other side was the grocer. Says I to the girl in a whisper, as she
passed me,--
"There; 'tis all laid for you, and you can fire the train when you
will, along of Booby."
She cast a glance at me and looked down, fingering her guineas as if
she loved 'em. But, bless you, I did not mind the guineas. There was
plenty more behind 'em. And then the widow turns on me, and begins to
ply me with questions about haberdashery and prices, but, rot me, I
knew nothing about them more than the babe in its cradle. So said I
presently,--
"Madam, I leave all such trifles to my man."
"Heavens!" says she, "you will be ruined. 'Tis most perilous. You want
someone that will look after your interests, and keep your house in
trim."
"Why, that's what miss will do," I laughed.
She shrugged her shoulders. "My husband," said she, "was worth his two
hundred guineas a year, and that's all come to me, alas," she says
sighing.
"'Tis not I would cry 'Alack,' if that befel me," I said with a grin.
"Ah, 'tis not the money," she says, "but the loneliness; and to think
that it's all lost to business; for I am my own mistress," she says,
"and can do what I like, having no child to consider."
"Well," said I, "I have one now, and an amazing beauty." She looked
sourly at Miss Nancy, who flushed very deep. Just then I was digged in
the ribs t'other side, and, turning, found the grocer with a grin on
his face.
"Pretty wench," says he with a wink.
"That is so," said I, tossing off the wine, which was not so ill.
"There's none too many like her about the town," he says again with his
significant wink.
"What the plague--" says I, but he winked again.
"I seen what you was after from the first," he said.
"The devil you did!" I said, and stared at him.
He dug his thumb into me again. "Ten guineas for her!" he said with a
knowing air.
"Well?" said I, for I guessed what the fool was after.
"Well," says he in his fat whisper, "you ain't no haberdasher. I seen
through you from the first."
"Look you," said I sharply, "get on with your supper and keep your foul
fingers off me, or I will choke your weasand for you."
That, as I conceive, startled him, for he fell away, looking at me
mighty anxiously, but said no more. Moreover, I was not for turning
the party into pepper and mustard, so I took another glass, and the
vintner at t'other end of the table nodded at me in a friendly way.
"'Tis a good bottle," says he knowingly, "and not every man's liquor."
That was true enough, for 'twas not the swipes I had took in his tavern
that afternoon, and he himself was witness to his words, for he had
drunk the better part of a bottle already and seemed very merry and
on familiar terms with the world. He plied the widow on one side and
his wife on t'other, but aunt's visage, for all her simper, would have
turned the best wine sour. Miss took but a sip of wine, but her face
was flushed and eager, but Booby--he made up for that abstinence, and
drank and talked and laughed as though he was at a goose-fair. Well,
they were a pretty party, and by this time I was entered into the
proper spirit of it. Booby over the way made a feint of embracing miss
and whispered in her ear, seeing which I bestowed a smile on him as who
should say "Brava! I commend your spirit." But miss turned away from
him sharply and I could see she was firing him a rejoinder. Thinks I,
maybe he hath crushed her steels, the which no woman will stand, and
the least of all in public. But as 'twas to settle their little affairs
that I was there the time had come to speak out, and so up jumps I
with my glass in hand.
"I will ask this company," said I, "to toast a pretty girl and her
lover. I'll warrant their names spring to your minds. Need I put a
style on them? Well, when these hairs be whitening, sure I shall be
comforted in a nursery of babes that shall bring 'em tenderly to the
grave, all along of my adopted daughter there and Cousin Tom that shall
inherit my fortune."
Now aunt's face was lined with smiles, and she lifted up her glass, and
looked towards the couple. The vintner, too, chuckled and called out
an indelicate jest for such maidenly ears. But what was my surprise
that miss turned crimson, and then pale, and started up with a little
exclamation. Booby looked sheepish and grinned, but she gave him her
shoulder, and,--
"I will not have you drink it," says she tartly. "I am my own mistress,
and not to be dictated to by any."
"Why, child, who is dictating to you?" said I amazed, and aunt frowned,
but says sweetly,--
"We have known all along 'twas a strong attachment 'twixt my son and
niece."
"Why, so I should ha' guessed," I replied.
"No, no," says uncle, shaking his silly head, "I never did believe
there was aught in it. So now you know, wife."
But his wife, who was as black as night, cried out sharply,--
"'Tis all nonsense. They are affianced duly."
And then the fat grocer muttered in my ears, "'Twas precious cunning;
you have noosed and caught her already. Gad, she'll fall into your maw
like a ripe plum!"
"If you will not cease," said I angrily, "I will run my hilt down your
throat."
"Hilt!" says he, staring, and edged away from me; and I could see him
eyeing me up and down to see if I carried a weapon.
"Come," said I to the girl. "Maybe this is sprung on you too suddenly.
Take your time," I said, "and we will wait. 'Tis a hundred guineas on
your wedding, my dear, and much more at my funeral."
"I do not want your money," said she petulantly, and flung the guineas
on the table.
Aunt cried out in a fury, and uncle stared, for he was much in liquor.
But the grocer and the widow began hurriedly to gather them up.
"Steady," said I. "Whoa, my lass. What's come over you? This suits not
with your mood this afternoon. I will admit Booby is no beauty and hath
a tongue too gross for his phiz, but 'tis your own choice."
"Whom call you Booby?" cries the youth, rising in a passion that was
compounded of wine and jealousy.
"If you will not sit down," said I, "I will teach you a lesson. Sit
down and buss, you fool. Buss and be thankful."
He flopped into his seat foolishly, but miss rose and moved from the
table. "I will not stay here for insult," she said, with spirit.
"You shall not refuse," says aunt, white with anger, "or you shall be
turned out of doors this very night, you shall."
"Oh, she is a sly slut; she casts her eyes high," says the widow, in a
high vindictive note.
"Look ye here," says the vintner sillily, and with a tipsy frown. "Let
us not tangle this merry meeting into knots. Be easy all. If Nancy
wants a husband, as well she may, being of a marriageable age, here's
one for her, and no better than he--Mr Samuel Hogg, of Bristol. Sir, I
toast you and Nancy as bride and groom."
I looked at the girl. She had come to a pause and now stood, her face
demurely cast down, and she said nothing, not raising any protest.
And then, in a flash, it came to me what she wanted. I could have
laughed aloud if I had been in my own company. She took me for a real
well-to-do haberdasher and would have me, the puss; or maybe 'twas
my looks took her, for she is not the first to be tantalised by my
bearing. But I had not bargained for this, and so I laughed a little,
and looked askew at the vintner.
"How!" says I, "will you turn a daughter into a wife?"
"'Tis infamous," says the widow. "'Tis shocking to the ordinances of
religion."
"Not so fast," said I. "She's no daughter to me yet, nor perhaps will
be," for I was weary of her hints and innuendoes, the meaning of which
was apparent.
"Oh, maybe he can find room for you both," says the grocer, with his
fat laugh.
"Though 'tis my only niece," says the vintner, pursuing his theme, as
if none had spoken, "I will spare her to so worthy a gentleman. I have
known her since she was a chit so high--my own sister's child!" and he
began to weep maudlin tears that came of the drink.
"I'm sure," says the widow, "that the gentleman will be well rid of
such an ungrateful baggage, and 'tis an insult to use him so. He does
not want a silly slip like that, either to daughter or wife, undutiful
as she would be, and extravagant in her habit. What would suit you,
sir," she says, turning on me, "would be a staid comely wife near to
your own age, with a knowledge of haberdashery, and some money to--"
"Will you be quiet," says I to her, savagely.
"He's got his eye on the young 'un; he's marked her," says the fat
grocer, dipping his nose in the wine, "I knew it all along. There's
mighty little chance to deceive me. I know these dogs. Why, directly he
came in I saw a look on him when he eyed her that--"
"Look here, I have warned you once," says I, infuriated, and I gave him
a blow under his fat chin that sent him sprawling over the next chair
to the floor. At that the widow screamed out and cries,--
"Murder! murder!"
I was for turning on her, for my blood was up at this silliness, when
the vintner got upon his legs unsteadily.
"I will have no murder done in my house," says he, with a hiccough. "I
will fight any man that is for doing murder in my house."
But ere I could answer Booby rushed at me. "I'll have your blood," he
cried. And when I would have treated him as I had done the grocer, the
widow put her arms about me and squealed that I was being killed, while
miss clung to Booby behind and strove to pull him off with her hands
and nails.
"Oh, sir, oh, sir, 'tis a Christian house," cries aunt, wringing her
hands.
But, Christian or not, I was not for being choked by the old cat, and
so I threw her off roughly; but a blow from the vintner took me in the
stomach, so that all my wind was out. He was whirling his arms like a
mill.
"I'll learn you to do murder," cries he.
'Twas too much for me. I had been sorely tried by their stupidity, and
to have them falling on me was more than I could stand.
"Rip me," says I, "as sure as my name is Dick Ryder I'll lay a corpse
out if you do not leave me."
"Dick Ryder!" cries Miss Nancy, letting go of Booby, who toppled over
upon the grocer.
"Yes," says I, "Dick Ryder, who is mightily sorry that he ever set
forth to do any kindness to a ninny like you."
"Ay," says a voice behind me, "'tis Dick Ryder for sure, young woman."
I turned at the sound, and on the steps, descending from the tavern,
was Timothy Grubbe, with the face of a trap behind him.
"Dick Ryder," says he, with a grin, "I arrest you in the name of His
Majesty for the robbery of one Samuel Hogg, on Turnham Green, last
night."