Thereby Hangs a Tale Part 43

"Thank you much," she said, with a shudder; "but I give up: we cannot go."

"Believe you can't," said Barney, grinning. "D'yer hear that, cabby?"

"Yes, I hear," said Sam, gruffly; "and if it weren't that I don't want to make a row afore the ladies, I'd have you off that trunk afore you knew where you was. And as to leaving the box alone, my missus said I was to take it down to the keb. Is it to go, old lady?"

"Yes, certainly," said Mrs Jenkles, with flas.h.i.+ng eyes.

"Now, Barney, d'yer hear?" said Sam.

"Who do you call Barney? You don't know me," said he.

"Oh no," said Sam; "I don't know you. I didn't give yer a lift in my 'ansom, and drive yer away down at 'Ampton, when the mob had torn yer clothes into rags for welching, and they was going to pitch yer in the Thames, eh?"

Barney scowled, and shuffled about on his seat.

"Now, then," said Sam; "are you going to get up?"

"No," said Barney.

"Mrs Jenkles, pray end this scene!" exclaimed Mrs Lane, pitifully--"for her sake," she added in a whisper.

"I'll end it, mum," said Sam.

And he gave a sharp whistle, with the result that the door was opened so violently that Mrs Sturt was jerked forward against Sam, the cause being a policeman, who now stood in the entry, with the further effect that Barney leaped off the trunk, and stood looking aghast.

Mrs Jenkles gave a sigh of relief, and a gratified look at her husband.

"Here's the case, policeman," said Sam. "Ladies here wants to leave these lodgings: they've given notice and paid their rent; but the missus here brings out a bill for things as the lady says she's never had, and wants to stop their boxes. It's county court, aint it? They can't stop the clothes?"

"n.o.body wants to stop no boxes," said Barney, uneasily. "Only it was precious shabby on 'em going like this."

"Then you don't want to stop the boxes, eh?" said Sam.

Mrs Sturt gave her husband a sharp dig with her elbow.

"Be quiet, can't you!" he snarled; and then to Sam, "'course I don't."

"Then ketch hold o' t'other end," said Sam, placing the bag on the trunk.

And like a lamb Barney helped to bear his late lodger's impedimenta downstairs, and then to place them on the cab, as Mrs Jenkles led Netta half fainting from the room.

Five minutes after, Sam had banged-to the rattling door, shutting in the little party, climbed to his box, and settled himself in his place, with a good-humoured nod to the policeman, who stood beating his gloves together, while Barney stood at the side of his wife.

"Here's the price of a pint for you, Barney," said Sam, throwing him a couple of pence--money which Barney instantly secured; and then, vowing vengeance against the donor, he slunk off in the opposite direction; but only to double round by a back street, and track the cab like a dog, till he saw it set down its inmates at the humble little home of Mrs Jenkles.

Volume 2, Chapter X.

FRANK PRATT'S CROSS-EXAMINATION, AND APRES.

Captain Vanleigh had declared solemnly that Penreife was "the deucedest dullest place" he ever saw in his life; and Sir Felix said it was "'nough to kill 'fler;" but, all the same, there was no talk to Trevor of moving; they lounged about the house chatting to each other, and consumed their host's cigars to a wonderful extent; they ate his dinners and drank his wine; and Vanleigh generally contrived to go to bed a few guineas richer every night from the whist table.

Pratt protested against the play, but Trevor laughed at him.

"My dear boy," he said, "why not let such matters take their course?

Van is my guest; surely I should be a bad host if I did not let him win a little spare cash. Have you anything else to grumble about?"

"Heaps," said Pratt, trying to put his little legs on a chair in front of the garden seat where he and his friend were having a morning cigar; but they were too short, and he gave up the attempt.

"Go on, then," said Trevor, lazily, "have your grumble out."

"Hadn't I better go back to town?" said Pratt, sharply.

"Why, are you not comfortable?"

"Yes--no--yes--no. I'm precious uncomfortable. I see too much," said Pratt.

"Well, let's hear what you see that makes you so uncomfortable," said Trevor, carelessly.

"d.i.c.k, old boy," said Pratt, "you won't be offended with me for what I say?"

"Not I," was the answer.

"What are you thinking about?" said Pratt, watching the other's face.

"I was only thinking about you, and wondering why, if you don't like what you see, you can't close your eyes."

"That's what you are doing, d.i.c.k!" said Pratt, eagerly.

"My dear Frank, have you discovered powder barrels beneath the house--is there a new plot?"

"Don't be so foolish, d.i.c.k. Why don't you let those two fellows go?"

"Because they are my guests, and stay as long as they like."

"And are doing their very best to undermine your happiness."

"Nonsense, man."

"d.i.c.k, old fellow, answer me honestly. Don't you care a great deal for that little girl up at Tolcarne?"

There was a few moments' pause, during which the colour came into Trevor's cheek.

"Honestly, I do," he said at last. "Well, and what of that?"

"Well, d.i.c.k, are you blind? Van's making all the play that he can, and father and aunt favour him. He's there nearly every day. He's there now."

Trevor gave a start, and turned round to face his friend, his lips twitching and fingers working; but he burst out laughing the next moment.

"Anything else, Franky?"