The Humourous Story of Farmer Bumpkin's Lawsuit Part 26

about." At this Jack Outofwork, Tom Lazyman, and Bill Saunter laughed; while d.i.c.k Devilmecare said, "He hated hanging about too; it was wus than work."

"And that's bad enough, Heaven knows," said Lazyman.

Then I saw that at this moment entered a fine tall handsome soldier, who I afterwards learned was Sergeant Goodtale of the One Hundred and twenty-fourth Hussars. A smarter or more compact looking fellow it would be impossible to find: and he came in with such a genial, good-natured smile, that to look at him would almost make you believe there was no happiness or glory on this side the grave except in Her Majesty's service-especially the Hussars!

I also perceived that fluttering from the side of Sergeant Goodtale's cap, placed carelessly and jauntily on the side of his head, was a bunch of streamers of the most fascinating red white and blue you ever could behold. Altogether, Sergeant Goodtale was a splendid sight. Down went his cane on the table with a crack, as much as to say "The Queen!" and he marched up to the fire and rubbed his hands: apparently taking no heed of any human being in the room.

Mr. b.u.mpkin's heart leaped when he saw the military sight: his eyes opened as if he were waking from a dream out of which he had been disturbed by a cry of "fire:" and giving Joe a wink and an obviously made-up look, beckoned him out of the room. As they went out they met a young man, shabbily clad and apparently poorly fed. He had an intelligent face, though somewhat emaciated. He might be, and probably was, a clerk out of employment, and he threw himself on the seat in a listless manner that plainly said he was tired of everything.

This was Harry Highlow. He had been brought up with ideas beyond his means. It was through no fault of his that he had not been taught a decent trade: those responsible for his training having been possessed of the notion that manual labour lowers one's respectability: an error and a wickedness which has been responsible for the ruin of many a promising youth before to-day.

Harry was an intelligent, fairly educated youth, and nothing more. What is to be done with raw material so plentiful as that? The cheapest marketable commodity is an average education, especially in a country where even our Universities can supply you with candidates for employment at a cheaper rate than you can obtain the services of a first-cla.s.s cook.

This young man had tried everything that was genteel: he had even aspired to literature: sought employment on the Press, on the Stage, everywhere in fact where gentility seemed to reign. Nor do I think he lacked ability for any of these walks; it was not ability but opportunity that failed him.

"Lookee ere, Joe," said Mr. b.u.mpkin; "harken to me. Don't thee 'ave nowt to say to that there soger."

"All right, maister," said Joe, laughing; "thee thinks I be gwine for a soger. Now lookee ere, maister, I beant a fool."

"No, thee beant, Joe. I knowed thee a good while, and thee beant no fool."

Joe laughed. It was a big laugh was Joe's, for his mouth was somewhat large, and a grin always seemed to twist it. On this occasion, so great was his surprise that his master should think he would be fool enough to enlist for a "soger," that his mouth a.s.sumed the most irregular shape I ever saw, and bore a striking resemblance to a hole such as might be made in the head of a drum by the heel of a boot.

"I be up to un, maister."

"Have no truck wi' un, I tell ee; don't speak to un. Thee be my head witness, and doant dare goo away; no, no more un if-"

"No fear," said Joe. "'Taint likely I be gwine to listen to ee. I knows what he wants; he's arter listin chaps."

"Look ee ere, Joe, if ur speaks to thee, jist say I beant sich a fool as I looks; that'll ave un."

"Right," says Joe; "I beant sich a fool as I looks; that'll ave un straight."

"Now, take heed; I'm gwine into the parlour wi' Landlord."

Accordingly, into the little quiet snuggery of Mr. Oldtimes, Mr. b.u.mpkin betook himself. And many and many an agreeable evening was pa.s.sed with Mr. and Mrs. Oldtimes during the period when Mr. b.u.mpkin was waiting for his trial. For Mr. and Mrs. Oldtimes being Somersetshire people knew many inhabitants of the old days in the village of Yokelton, where Mr.

b.u.mpkin "were bred and born'd."

Meanwhile the "head witness" had returned to the cheerful scene in the taproom, and sat leering out of the corners of his eyes upon the Sergeant, as though he expected every moment that officer would make a spring at him and have him upon the floor. But the Sergeant was not a bullying, bl.u.s.tering sort of man at all; his demeanour was quiet in the extreme. He scarcely looked at anyone. Simply engaged in warming his hands at the cheerful fire, no one had cause to apprehend anything from him.

But a man, Sergeant or no Sergeant, must, out of common civility, exchange a word now and then, if only about the weather; and so he said, carelessly,-

"Sharp weather, lads!"

Now, not even Joe could disagree with this; it was true, and was a.s.sented to by all; Joe silently acquiescing. After the Sergeant had warmed his hands and rubbed them sufficiently, he took off his cap and placed it on a little shelf or rack; and then took out a meerschaum pipe, which he exhibited without appearing to do so to the whole company. Then he filled it from his pouch, and rang the bell; and when the buxom young waitress appeared, he said,-

"My dear, I think I'll have a nice rump steak and some onions, if you please."

"Yes, sir," said the maid.

Now I observed that two or three matters were noteworthy at this point.

First, Joe's mouth so watered that he actually went to the fireplace and expectorated. Secondly, he was utterly amazed at the familiar manner in which the Sergeant was permitted to address this beautiful young person, who seemed to be quite a lady of quality. Thirdly, he was duly impressed and astounded with the luxurious appet.i.te of this Sergeant of Hussars!

Then the young woman came back and said,-"Would you like to have it in the parlour, sir?"

"O no, my dear," said the Sergeant; "I would rather have it here. I hate being alone."

As he said this, he slightly glanced at d.i.c.k Devilmecare. d.i.c.k, flattering himself that the observation was addressed particularly to him, observed that he also hated being alone.

Then the Sergeant lighted his pipe; and I suppose there was not one in the company who did not think that tobacco particularly nice.

Next, the Sergeant rang again, and once more the pretty maid appeared.

"Lucy," said he, "while my steak is getting ready, I think I'll have three of whiskey hot, with a little lemon in it."

At this there was an involuntary smacking of lips all round, although no one was conscious he had exhibited any emotion. The Sergeant was perfectly easy and indifferent to everything. He smoked, looked at the fire, sipped his grog, spread out his legs, folded his arms; then rose and turned his back to the fire, everyone thinking how thoroughly he enjoyed himself.

"That smells very nice, Sergeant," said Harry.

"Yes, it's very good," said the Sergeant; "it's some I got down at Yokelton, Somersetshire."

Here Joe looked up; he hadn't been home for a week, and began to feel some interest in the old place, and everything belonging to it.

"I comes from that ere place, Mr. Sergeant," said he.

"Indeed, sir," said the Sergeant, in an off-hand manner.

"Did thee buy un at a shop by the Pond, sir?"

"That's it," replied the Sergeant, pointing with his pipe, "to the right."

"The seame plaace," exclaimed Joe. "Why my sister lives there sarvant wi that ooman as keeps the shop."

"Indeed!" said Sergeant Goodtale; "how very curious!"

And Jack said, "What a rum thing!"

And Bill said, "That is a rum thing!"

And Harry said it was a strange coincidence. In short, they all agreed that it was the most remarkable circ.u.mstance that ever was.

CHAPTER XIX.

The subject continued.

As soon as the conversation on the remarkable circ.u.mstance recorded in the last chapter had drifted into another subject no less remarkable, and the Sergeant had finished his pipe, the beautiful being appeared with the rump steak and onions, a snowy white cloth having been previously spread at the end of one of the tables. When all was ready, it looked as nice and appetizing as could well be conceived. The most indifferent man there seemed the Sergeant himself, who, instead of rushing to the chair provided for him, walked as coolly up to the table as though he were going into action. Then he took the knife, and seeing it had not quite so sharp an edge as he liked, gave it a touch or two on the stone hearth.