Sawn Off Part 14

"He's to put a good big corn on the last of the left-hand foot, and then cut away the leather, well beat a patch and put it on. My left foot hurts me horrid."

"You ought to have a new pair," said Mrs Shingle.

"Hey?"

"You ought to have a new pair," she continued, a trifle more loudly.

"Have a new pair?"

Mrs Shingle nodded.

"Bah! How can I afford a new pair? Times are hard. Ships' husbands don't make money like they used. New pair, indeed! They're good enough for me. Tell him to mend 'em well, and they are to be sixpence, d'yer hear?" Mrs Shingle nodded, with her silk in her mouth, gave it a tw.a.n.g, and went on.

"You'll break your teeth one of these days," said the old fellow, taking off his hat, placing it on his stick, and standing it in a corner.

Then, going in a slow, bent way to the well waxed and polished Windsor chair, he gave the chintz cushion a punch, took a long clay pipe off the chimney-piece, made it chirrup, reached an old leaden tobacco-box from the same place, set it up on the table, and sat down.

"My teeth are used to it," said Mrs Shingle, smiling pleasantly, as if she were quite accustomed to the old fellow's proceedings.

"Hey?"

"I say my teeth are used to it," repeated Mrs Shingle.

"Oh!--Don't shout.--I say, this tobacco's as dry as a chip," he continued, filling his pipe.

Mrs Shingle sighed.

"d.i.c.k's been going it awfully," grumbled the old fellow; "there was nearly half an ounce here last night."

Mrs Shingle rose, took the matches from the chimney-piece, struck a light, and held it to the bowl of the pipe; the visitor puffed the tobacco into a state of incandescence, and then subsided into his chair with a satisfied grunt, and sat staring straight before him, while Mrs Shingle sighed and went on with her st.i.tching.

"I met those two," said the old fellow, after a pause.

Mrs Shingle looked up sharply.

"Won't do," said her visitor.

"What won't do?"

"Hey?"

"I say, what won't do?" said Mrs Shingle, colouring, and looking at him anxiously.

"I can hear you--don't shout," said the old fellow. "I say that won't do. Has Tom been here much?"

"No, not much," said Mrs Shingle.

"I don't quite understand Tom," said the old fellow. "But I think he's a scamp."

"Indeed, I'm sure he's not!" cried Mrs Shingle excitedly. "Sure he's not?" chuckled the old fellow. "Of course. Just like you women. You take a fancy to a man, and the blacker he is the more you say he's white."

"I'm sure Tom is a very good, gentlemanly young fellow."

"Of course. But it won't do, Polly--it won't do."

"I don't see why it shouldn't do," said Mrs Shingle, tossing her head.

"They're both young and nice-looking."

"Bah! will that fill their insides?"

"And they're getting very fond of each other."

"More shame for you to let 'em," said the old man composedly. And his eyes twinkled with malicious glee as he saw the little woman begin to grow ruffled, like a mother hen, and the colour come into her wattles and comb.

"And pray why?" said Mrs Shingle loudly.

"Don't shout," said the old fellow. "Why, indeed! What will Max say when he knows of it?"

"Ah!" sighed Mrs Shingle, "what indeed!"

"He'll boil over in his confounded sanctified way, and kick Tom out of the house without a shilling of his mother's money."

"Oh, dear, dear, dear," said Mrs Shingle, letting her work fall into her lap and wringing her hands; "that's what I've been thinking, and I've tried all I could to stop it; but the more I try, the fonder they get of one another."

"Of course they do. That's their way--the young fools!" snarled the visitor; "and if you let 'em alone, Jessie will marry the young noodle, fill his house full of children, and make him a poor man all his life."

"That wouldn't matter much if they were happy," sighed Mrs Shingle.

"Same as you've kept poor old d.i.c.ky?"

"Indeed! and we never had but one little one," said Mrs Shingle indignantly.

"Hey?"

"I say we never had but one little one--Jessie," said Mrs Shingle indignantly.

"Gross piece of extravagance, too. You couldn't afford children."

"No, indeed," sighed Mrs Shingle.

"And now you're encouraging that pretty young baggage, who coaxes and carneys round you, to get herself in the same mess, and then you'll be happy."

"Oh, dear, dear, dear, dear me! I wish I knew what to do," sighed Mrs Shingle.

"What to do!" chorused the old fellow. "No business to have married. I didn't, and I've saved just enough to live on with strict economy; and see how happy I am."

"You don't seem to be," said Mrs Shingle tartly; "for you're always finding fault."

"Finding fault?"