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to do her some
grievous bodily harm with the view of possessing himself of her
loose coin. She would have cried for assistance, but age and
infirmity had long ago deprived her of the power of screaming;
she, therefore, watched his motions with feelings of intense horror
which were in no degree diminished by his coming close up to her,
and shouting in her ear in an agitated, and as it seemed to her, a
threatening tone--
Missus!
Now it so happened that Mr. Jingle was walking in the garden
close to the arbour at that moment. He too heard the shouts of
Missus, and stopped to hear more. There were three reasons for
his doing so. In the first place, he was idle and curious; secondly,
he was by no means scrupulous; thirdly, and lastly, he was
concealed from view by some flowering shrubs. So there he
stood, and there he listened.
Missus! shouted the fat boy.
Well, Joe, said the trembling old lady. Im sure I have been
a good mistress to you, Joe. You have invariably been treated
very kindly. You have never had too much to do; and you have
always had enough to eat.
This last was an appeal to the fat boys most sensitive feelings.
He seemed touched, as he replied emphatically--
I knows I has.
Then what can you want to do now? said the old lady,
gaining courage.
I wants to make your flesh creep, replied the boy.
This sounded like a very bloodthirsty mode of showing ones
gratitude; and as the old lady did not precisely understand the
process by which such a result was to be attained, all her former
horrors returned.
What do you think I see in this very arbour last night?
inquired the boy.
Bless us! What? exclaimed the old lady, alarmed at the
solemn manner of the corpulent youth.
The strange gentleman--him as had his arm hurt--a-kissin
and huggin--
Who, Joe? None of the servants, I hope.
Worser than that, roared the fat boy, in the old ladys ear.
Not one of my granddaaters?
Worser than that.
Worse than that, Joe! said the old lady, who had thought this
the extreme limit of human atrocity. Who was it, Joe? I insist
upon knowing.
The fat boy looked cautiously round, and having concluded
his survey, shouted in the old ladys ear--
Miss Rachael.
What! said the old lady, in a shrill tone. Speak louder.
Miss Rachael, roared the fat boy.
My daater!
The train of nods which the fat boy gave by way of assent,
communicated a blanc-mange like motion to his fat cheeks.
And she suffered him! exclaimed the old lady.
A grin stole over the fat boys features as he said--
I see her a-kissin of him agin.
If Mr. Jingle, from his place of concealment, could have
beheld the expression which the old ladys face assumed at this
communication, the probability is that a sudden burst of
laughter would have betrayed his close vicinity to the summer-
house. He listened attentively. Fragments of angry sentences such
as, Without my permission!--At her time of life--Miserable
old ooman like me--Might have waited till I was dead, and so
forth, reached his ears; and then he heard the heels of the fat
boys boots crunching the gravel, as he retired and left the old
lady alone.
It was a remarkable coincidence perhaps, but it was nevertheless
a fact, that Mr. Jingle within five minutes of his arrival at Manor
Farm on the preceding night, had inwardly resolved to lay siege
to the heart of the spinster aunt, without delay. He had observation
enough to see, that his off-hand manner was by no means
disagreeable to the fair object of his attack; and he had more
than a strong suspicion that she possessed that most desirable of
all requisites, a small independence. The imperative necessity of
ousting his rival by some means or other, flashed quickly upon
him, and he immediately resolved to adopt certain proceedings
tending to that end and object, without a moments delay.
Fielding tells us that man is fire, and woman tow, and the Prince
of Darkness sets a light to em. Mr. Jingle knew that young men,
to spinster aunts, are as lighted gas to gunpowder, and he
determined to essay the effect of an explosion without loss of time.
Full of reflections upon this important decision, he crept from
his place of concealment, and, under cover of the shrubs before
mentioned, approached the house. Fortune seemed determined to
favour his design. Mr. Tupman and the The Pickwick Papers page 49 The Pickwick Papers page 51 |