The Poacher Part 21

It is a question whether these books of bad debts were not a source of enjoyment to her, for every night she would take one of the books down, and although she could not read, yet, by having them continually read to her, and knowing the pages so exactly, she could almost repeat every line by heart which the various bills contained; and then there was always a story which she had to tell about each--something relative to the party of whom the transaction reminded her; and subsequently, when Joey was fairly domiciled with her, she would make him hand down one of the books, and talk away from it for hours; they were the ledgers of her reminiscences; the events of a considerable portion of her life were all entered down along with the 'baccy, porter, pipes, and red herrings; a bill for these articles was to her time, place and circ.u.mstance; and what with a good memory, and bad debts to a.s.sist it, many were the hours which were pa.s.sed away (and pleasantly enough, too, for one liked to talk, and the other to listen) between Mrs Chopper and our little hero.

But we must not antic.i.p.ate.

The permission given to Joey to stretch his legs induced him to set off as fast as he could to gain the high road before his little friend, Emma Phillips, had left her school. He sat down in the same place, waiting for her coming. The spot had become hallowed to the poor fellow, for he had there met with a friend--with one who sympathised with him when he most required consolation. He now felt happy, for he was no longer in doubt about obtaining his livelihood, and his first wish was to impart the pleasing intelligence to his little friend. She was not long before she made her appearance in her little straw bonnet with blue ribbons.

Joey started up, and informed her that he had got a very nice place, explained to her what it was, and how he had been employed during the day.

"And I can very often come out about this time, I think," added Joey, "and then I can walk home with you, and see that you come to no harm."

"But," replied the little girl, "my mother says that she would like to see you, as she will not allow me to make acquaintance with people I meet by accident. Don't you think that mother is right?"

"Yes, I do; she's very right," replied Joey; "I didn't think of that."

"Will you come and see her, then?"

"Not now, because I am not very clean. I'll come on Sunday, if I can get leave."

They separated, and Joey returned back to the town. As he walked on, he thought he would spend the money he had got in a suit of Sunday clothes, of a better quality than those he had on, the materials of which were very coa.r.s.e. On second thoughts, he resolved to apply to Mrs Chopper, as he did not exactly know where to go for them, and was afraid that he would be imposed upon.

"Well, Peter," said his new mistress, "do you feel better for your walk?"

"Yes, thank you, ma'am."

"Peter," continued Mrs Chopper, "you appear to be a very handy, good boy, and I hope we shall live together a long while. How long have you been at sea?"

"I was going to sea; I have never been to sea yet, and I don't want to go; I would rather stay with you."

"And so you shall, that's a settled thing. What clothes have you got, Peter?"

"I have none but what I stand in, and a few shirts in a bundle, and they are Sunday ones; but when I left home I had some money given me, and I wish to buy a suit of clothes for Sunday, to go to church in."

"That's a good boy, and so you shall; but how much money have you got?"

"Quite enough to buy a suit of clothes," replied Joey, handing out two sovereigns, and seventeen shillings in silver.

"Oh, I suppose they gave you all that to fit you out with when you left home; poor people, I dare say they worked hard for it. Well, I don't think the money will be of any use to you; so you had better buy a Sunday suit, and I will take care you want for nothing afterwards.

Don't you think I'm right?"

"Yes, I wish to do so. To-day is Tuesday; I may have them made by next Sunday?"

"So you can; and as soon as William comes in, which he will soon, from the washerwoman's, we will go out and order them. Here he comes up the stairs--no, that foot's too light for his. Well, it's Nancy, I declare!

Why, Nancy, now," continued Mrs Chopper, in a deprecating tone, "what do you want here?"

"Well, I leave you to guess," replied Nancy, looking very demurely, and taking a seat upon a hamper.

"Guess, I fear there's no guess in it, Nancy; but I will not--now it's no use--I will not trust another shilling."

"But I know you will, Mrs Chopper. Lord love you, you're such a good-natured creature, you can't refuse any one, and certainly not me.

Why don't you take me in your boat with you as your a.s.sistant? then there would be something in it worth looking at. I should bring you plenty of custom."

"You're too wild, Nancy; too wild, girl. But, now, what do you want?

recollect you've already had some things to-day."

"I know I have, and you are a good-natured old trump, that you are. Now I'll tell you--gold must pa.s.s between us this time."

"Mercy on me, Nancy, why you're mad. I've no gold--nothing but bad debts."

"Look you, Mrs Chopper, look at this shabby old bonnet of mine. Don't I want a new one?"

"Then you must get somebody else to give you money, Nancy," replied Mrs Chopper, coolly and decidedly.

"Don't talk so fast, Mrs Chopper: now, I'll let you know how it is.

When Bill came on board he asked the captain for an advance; the captain refused him before, but this time he was in a good humour, and he consented. So then I coaxed Bill out of a sovereign to buy a new bonnet, and he gave it me; and then I thought what a kind soul you were, and I resolved that I would bring you the sovereign, and go without the new bonnet; so here it is, take it quick, or I shall repent."

"Well, Nancy," said Mrs Chopper, "you said right; gold has pa.s.sed between us, and I am surprised. Now I shall trust you again."

"And so you ought; it's not every pretty girl, like me, who will give up a new bonnet. Only look what a rubbishy affair this is," continued Nancy, giving her own a kick up in the air.

"I wish I had a sovereign to give away," said Joey to Mrs Chopper; "I wish I had not said a word about the clothes."

"Do as you like with your own money, my dear," said the b.u.mboat-woman.

"Then, Nancy, I'll give you a sovereign to buy yourself a new bonnet with," said Joey, taking one out of his pocket and putting into her hand.

Nancy looked at the sovereign, and then at Joey. "Bless the boy!" said she, at last, kissing him on the forehead; "he has a kind heart; may the world use him better than it has me! Here, take your sovereign, child; any bonnet's good enough for one like me." So saying, Nancy turned hastily away, and ran downstairs.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

IN WHICH MRS. CHOPPER READS HER LEDGER.

"Ah, poor girl," said Mrs Chopper, with a sigh, as Nancy disappeared.

"You are a good boy, Peter; I like to see boys not too fond of money, and if she had taken it (and I wish she had, poor thing) I would have made it up to you."

"Is the man she calls Bill her husband?" inquired Joey.

"Oh, I know nothing about other people's husbands," replied Mrs Chopper, hastily. "Now then, let us go and order the clothes, and then you'll be able to go to church on Sunday; I will do without you."

"What, won't you go to church?"

"Bless you, child! who is to give the poor men their breakfast and their beer? A b.u.mboat-woman can't go to church any more than a baker's man, for people must eat on a Sunday. Church, like everything else in this world, appears to me only to be made for the rich; I always take my Bible in the boat with me on Sunday, but then I can't read it, so it's of no great use. No, dear, I can't go to church, but I can contrive, if it don't rain in the evening, to go to meeting and hear a little of the Word; but you can go to church, dear."

A suit of blue cloth, made in sailor's fashion, having been ordered by Mrs Chopper, she and Joey returned home; and, after their tea, Mrs Chopper desired Joey to hand her one of the account-books, which she put upon her knees and opened.

"There," said she, looking at the page, "I know that account well; it was Tom Alsop's--a fine fellow he was, only he made such a bad marriage: his wife was a very fiend, and the poor fellow loved her, which was worse. One day he missed her, and found she was on board another vessel; and he came on sh.o.r.e, distracted like, and got very tipsy, as sailors always do when they're in trouble, and he went down to the wharf, and his body was picked up next day."

"Did he drown himself?"

"Yes, so people think, Peter; and he owed me 1 pound, 3 shillings, 4 pence, if I recollect right. Aren't that the figure, Peter?"