The Astonishing History of Troy Town Part 8

"You beant' a-goin' to rig me out in a yaller weskit an'

small-clothes wi' a stripe down the leg, by any chance?"

"I was proposing that you should dress exactly as you do at present."

"Then done wi' you, sir, an' thank 'ee. When be I to enter on my dooties?"

"At once."

"An' where, sir?"

"Here."

"Be you a-goin' to sleep the night in this moloncholy place?"

"Certainly."

"Very well, sir. Please yoursel', as d.i.c.k said to the press-gang.

An' what be I to do fust?"

Mr. Fogo perhaps did not hear the question, for he was gazing out at the falling shadows: when he spoke again it was upon another subject.

"It is right that you should know," said he, "the kind of life you will be wanted to lead. In the first place, I am extraordinarily subject to fits of abstraction--absence of mind, in other words.

It is an affection to which my style of life has made me particularly p.r.o.ne: it has led me before now into absurd, and sometimes into dangerous situations.

"I _have_ heard tell," said Caleb, "of an old gentl'm'n as carefully tucked hes umbrella in bed an' put hissel' in the corner. Es that the style o' thing, sir?"

"It is something similar," said his master, "and within certain limits I should expect you to look after me and as far as possible prevent such accidents: however, I shall not, of course, expect you to have more than one pair of eyes. My tastes are simple--I read a little, sketch a little, botanise, dabble in chemistry, am fond of carpentering--boat-building especially. My very absence of mind makes me indifferent to surroundings. In short, I am a mild man."

Mr. Fogo got off his barrel, went to the window, sighed softly, and returned. Something in his manner imposed silence on Caleb.

"We shall live here alone," he resumed. "It is even possible that, to ensure solitude, I shall rent the cottage as well, and install you there. Above all things, remember," with sudden sternness, "that no woman is to come near this house--I shall even expect you to do your utmost to prevent their landing on the quay below. That, I think, is all. I now wish you to row down to the station and get my portmanteau. After that, with this money procure a couple of hammocks, besides provisions and whatever will be necessary for the night, not forgetting soap and candles. To-morrow we will take in further stock."

Caleb was about to make some answer when the garden gate creaked heavily, and Peter Dearlove appeared in the dusk outside the window; so he merely took the money, touched his forelock by way of acknowledging his new employment, and retired. But it was noticeable that once or twice on his way to the boat he had to pull himself up and think a bit. Arrived on the quay, too, he stood for a moment or so beside the boat in profound meditation.

"Come, Caleb Trotter!" he exclaimed, suddenly jumping in and seizing the paddles; "this sort o' thing won't do, nohow. Here you be paid for lookin' arter a gentl'm'n as wanders in hes wits, and fust news es, you be doin' the same yoursel'. 'Tes terribul queer, though," he added, and with that began to row towards town with an energy that set the boat quivering.

When he returned, in less than two hours' time, he found Mr. Fogo with a barrel full of water and the stump of a decayed broom, washing out the back kitchen. The Twin had gone.

"Here we be, sir. Pound o' candles, pound o' tea, two loaves o'

bread, knives, forks, two cups, three eggs--one on 'em smashed, in my trowsy pocket--saucepan, kettle, tea-pot, an' a hunk o' cold beef as salt as Lot's wife's elbow. That's the fust load. There's more in the boat, but I must ax'ee to bear a hand wi' thicky portmanty o'

youm, 'cos 'tes mortal heavy. I see'd Jan Higgs's wife a-fishin'

about two hundred yards from the quay, on my way up, an' warned her to keep her distance. There's a well o' water round at the back, an'

I've fetched a small sack o' coal, and ef us don't have a dish o' tay ready in a brace o' shakes, then Tom's killed an' Mary's forlorn."

With the statement of which gloomy alternative Mr. Caleb Trotter broke into a smile of honest pride.

"Caleb," said Mr. Fogo from his hammock in the back kitchen at about eleven o'clock on the same night.

"Aye, aye, sir."

"Are you comfortable?"

"Thank'ee, sir, gettin' on nicely. Just a bit Man-Fridayish to begin wi', but as corrat as Crocker's mare."

"What did you say?"

"Figger o' speech agen, sir, that's all. Good-night, sir."

"Good-night, Caleb."

Mr. Fogo settled himself in his hammock, sighed for a second time and dropped asleep.

CHAPTER VI.

HOW CERTAIN TROJANS CLIMBED A WALL OUT OF CURIOSITY; AND OF A CHARWOMAN THAT COULD GIVE NO INFORMATION.

Meanwhile, curiosity in Troy was beating its wings against the closed doors of "The Bower." The early morning train next day brought three domestics to supplement the youth in b.u.t.tons, and supplant the charwoman. Miss Limpenny, in _deshabille_ (but at a decent distance from the window), saw them arrive, and called Lavinia to look, with the result that within two minutes the sisters had satisfied themselves as to which was the cook, which the parlour-maid, and which the kitchen-maid.

Later in the day, a van-load of furniture arrived, though "The Bower"

was already furnished; but, as Miss Limpenny said, in all these matters of comfort and refinement, "there are degrees." On this occasion the Admiral, who had been prevailed upon to leave his bed, executed a manoeuvre the audacity of which should have commanded success.

He crossed the road, and opened a conversation with the driver.

But success does not always wait on the brave. The van-driver happened to have a temper as short as the Admiral's, and far less reverence.

"Good-morning," said the Admiral, cheerily.

"Mornin'."

"What's a-foot to-day?"

"Same as yesterday--twelve inches."

The Admiral was rather taken aback, but smiled, nevertheless, and persevered.

"Ha, ha! very good. You are a wit, I perceive."

But the driver's conversation teemed with the unexpected.

"Look 'ere, Ruby-face! give me any more of your sa.s.s an' I'll punch yer 'ed for tuppence."

This was conclusive. The Admiral struck his flag, re-crossed the street, went indoors, and had it out with Mrs. Buzza. Indeed, at the end of half-an-hour that poor lady's feelings were so overwrought, and, in consequence, her sobs so loud, that the Admiral had perforce to get out his double-ba.s.s and play a selection of martial music to prevent Miss Limpenny's hearing them on the other side of the part.i.tion.

All this happened early in the afternoon. Towards five o'clock Miss Limpenny, who had only left her post twice, and on each occasion to s.n.a.t.c.h a hurried meal, was rewarded for her patience. The front door of "The Bower" opened, and Mr. and Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys appeared, dressed, as Miss Limpenny could see, for a walk.