Sawn Off Part 12

"Oh, there!" exclaimed the girl.

"Now, look here, Mr Tom Fraser," said Mrs Shingle, holding up her needle as if it were a weapon of offence: "you two have been planning this."

"Mother!" cried Jessie.

"Oh no, we did not, aunt," cried the young man; "it was all my doing.

No, no, Jessie--I'll carry the parcel."

"No, no, Tom; indeed you must not."

"I should think not, indeed!" cried Mrs Shingle, who, as she glanced from one to the other, and thought of her own early days, plainly read the love that was growing up between the young people; but could not see that her first visitor, Fred, had come back, and was standing gazing, with a sallow, vicious look upon his face, at what was going on inside, before going off with his teeth set and an ugly glare in his eyes.

"Tom Fraser," continued the lady of the house, "I mean Mr Tom--Mr Thomas Fraser--you ought to be ashamed of yourself, to behave in this way. You quite the gentleman, and under Government, and coming to poor peopled houses, and wanting to carry parcels, and all like a poor errand-boy!"

"Stuff and nonsense, aunt!--I'm not a gentleman, and I'm only your nephew; and whilst I'm here I'm not going to see Jessie go through the street carrying a parcel, when I can do it for her."

"But you must not, indeed, Tom--I mean Mr Fraser," said Jessie, half-tearful, half-laughing. "I'm going to the warehouse, and I must carry it myself."

"I know you are going to the warehouse," said Tom, laughing; "but you must not carry the parcel yourself."

"But, my dear boy," said Mrs Shingle, who was evidently softening, "think of what your father would say."

"I can't help what he would say, aunt," said the young man, earnestly; "I only know I can't help coming here, and I don't think you want to be cruel and drive me away."

"No--no--no," said Mrs Shingle, "but--"

"Do you, Jessie?"

"No, Tom--Mr Fraser," faltered Jessie. "But--"

"But--but!" exclaimed the young man impatiently. "Bother Mr Fraser!

My dear Jessie, why are you turning so cold here before your mother?

Are you ashamed of me?"

"No--no, Tom," she cried eagerly.

"And you know how dearly I love you?"

"Yes, Tom," faltered Jessie sadly; "but it must be only as cousins."

"And why?" said the young man sternly.

"Because," said Jessie, laying her hand upon his arm, "I'm only a very poor girl, Tom, and half educated."

"What a wicked story, Jessie!" cried Mrs Shingle, who had her ap.r.o.n to her eyes, but now spoke up indignantly--"why, you write beautiful!"

"And," continued Jessie, "your father--my father would never consent to it; for I'm not a suitable choice for you to make."

"Why, Jessie," cried the young man, "you talk like a persecuted young lady in a book. What nonsense! Uncle Richard, if he felt sure that I should make you a good husband, would consent. And, as to my step-father--"

"Now, look here, you two," said Mrs Shingle, "it's important that Jessie should get to the warehouse with those things, and you're stopping idling. It's late as it is."

"Come along, then," cried Tom, seizing the parcel.

"No, no," cried Jessie, who looked pale, and trembled.

"No, indeed; he must not go with you," said Mrs Shingle.

"Don't be cruel, aunt," said Tom appealingly. "I don't like Jessie to go by herself."

"There, then, she's not going by herself; I'm going with her," exclaimed Mrs Shingle.

"Then let me go instead."

"No, no," cried Jessie, getting agitated; "you must not."

"You have some reason, Jessie," said Tom, looking at her suspiciously.

"No, no, Tom. Don't look at me like that," she cried.

"Then tell me why," he said, sternly.

"The man at the warehouse made remarks last time you came," said Jessie, hesitating.

"I'll make marks and remarks on him, if he does," cried Tom. "Aunt," he continued angrily, "I can't bear it. It's not right for Jessie to go alone; and I don't believe you were going. It makes me half mad to think that she may be insulted by some puppy or another, and I not be there to knock him down."

"But no one will insult her, my boy," said Mrs Shingle, looking at him admiringly.

"But people do, and have," cried Tom, grinding his teeth. "She has told me so. Because she goes with a parcel through the streets, every unmanly rascal seems to consider she is fair game for him; and--hang it, aunt, I can't help it!--if any scoundrel does it again, I'll half kill him!"

"Oh, Tom, Tom!" whispered Jessie, as he strode up and down, with the veins in his forehead starting, and then uttered a sob.

"I can't help it," he cried; "it's more than a fellow can bear. I'm not ashamed to own it. I love Jessie dearly; and if she'll be my little wife I don't care what anybody says. Poor girl, indeed! Where's the lady in our set that can stand before her?"

"Not many, I know," said Mrs Shingle proudly.

"She can't help uncle being poor, and I can't help my step-father being rich. Come, aunt, you'll let me go?"

"I mustn't."

"Then it's because that brother of mine has been here," cried Tom angrily.

"No, no, no!" cried Mrs Shingle; "indeed it isn't, my dear boy. But I mustn't allow it--I mustn't indeed. Your father will never forgive me."

"Jessie dear," cried the young man, taking her hand, "you know I love you."

"I know you say you do," she faltered.

"And I think you care for me--a little."