Old Betty had a horror of the workhouse. To save her old age from it she had deposited her wages in the bank for the last twenty years, and also a little legacy from Mr. Hardie's father. She now went about the house of her master and debtor, declaring she was sure he would not rob _her,_and, if he did, she would never go into the poorhouse. "I'll go out on the common and die there. Nobody will miss _me._"The next instance led to consequences upon consequences: and that is my excuse for telling it the reader somewhat more fully than Alfred heard it.
Mrs. Maxley one night found something rough at her feet in bed. "What on earth is this?" said she.
"Never you mind," said Maxley: "say it's my breeches; what then?""Why, what on earth does the man put his breeches to bed for?""That is my business," roared Maxley, and whispered drily, "'tain't for you to wear 'em, howsever."This little spar led to his telling her he had drawn out all their money, but, when she asked the reason, he snubbed her again indirectly, recommending her to sleep.
The fact is, the small-clothes were full of bank-notes; and Maxley always followed them into bed now, for fear of robbers.
The bank broke on a Tuesday: Maxley dug on impassive; and when curious people came about him to ask whether he was a loser, he used to inquire very gravely, and dwelling on every syllable, "Do--you--see--anything--green--in this ere eye."Friday was club day; the clubsmen met at the "Greyhound" and talked over their losses. Maxley sat smoking complacently; and when his turn came to groan, he said drily: "I draad all mine a week afore. (Exclamations.) Ihad a hinkling: my boy Jack he wrote to me from Canada as how Hardie's was rotten out there; now these here bankers they be like an oak tree;they do go at the limbs first and then at the heart."The club was wroth. "What, you went and made yourself safe and never gave any of us a chance? Was that neighbourly? was that--clubbable?"To a hailstorm of similar reproaches, Maxley made but one reply, "'Twarn't _my_ business to take care o' _you._" He added, however, a little sulkily, "I was laad for slander once: scalded dog fears lue-warm water.""Oh," said one, "I don't believe him. He puts a good face on it but his nine hundred is gone along with ourn.""'Taiu't gone far, then." With this he put his hand in his pocket, and, after some delay, pulled out a nice new crisp note and held it up. "What is that? I ask the company.""Looks like a ten-pun note, James.""Welt the bulk 'grees with the sample; I knows where to find eightscore and nine to match this here."The note was handed round: and on inspection each countenance in turn wore a malicious smile; till at last Maxley, surrounded by grinning faces, felt uneasy.
"What be 'e all grinning at like a litter o' Chessy cats? Warn't ye ugly enough without showing of your rotten teeth ?""Haw! Haw!""Better say 'tain't money at all, but only a wench's curl paper:" and he got up and snatched it fiercely out of the last inspector's hand. "Ye can't run your rigs on me," said he. "What an if I can't read words, Ican figures; and I spelt the ten out on every one of them, afore I'd take it."A loud and general laugh greeted this boast.
Then Maxley snatched up his hat in great wrath and some anxiety, and went out followed by a peal.
In five minutes he was at home; and tossed the note into his wife's lap.
She was knitting by a farthing dip. "Dame," said he, controlling all appearance of anxiety, "what d'ye call that?"She took up the note and held it close to the candle.
"Why, Jem, it is a ten-pound note, one of Hardie's--_as was._""Then what were those fools laughing at?" And he told her all that had happened.
Mrs. Maxley dropped her knitting and stood up trembling. "Why, you told me you had got our money all safe out!""Well, and so I have, ye foolish woman; and he drew the whole packet out of his pocket and flung them fiercely on the table. Mrs. Maxley ran her finger and eye over them, and uttered a scream of anger and despair.
"These! these be all Hardie's notes," she cried; "and what vally be Hardie's notes when Hardie's be broke?"Maxley staggered as if he had been shot.
The woman's eyes flashed fury at him. "This is your work, ye born idiot:
'mind your own business,' says you: you _must_ despise your wedded wife, that has more brains in her finger than you have in all your great long useless carease: you _must_ have your secrets: one day poison, another day beggary: you have ruined me, you have murdered me: get out of my sight! for if I find a knife I'll put it in you, I will." And in her ungovernable passion, she actually ran to the dresser for a knife: at which Maxley caught up a chair and lifted it furiously, above his head to fling at her.
Luckily the man had more self-command than the woman; he dashed the chair furiously on the floor, and ran out of the house.
He wandered about half stupid, and presently his feet took him mechanically round to his garden. He pottered about among his plants, looking at them, inspecting them closely, and scarce seeing them.
However, he covered up one or two, and muttered, "I think there will be a frost to-night: I think there will be a frost" Then his legs seemed to give way. He sat down and thought of his wedding-day: he began to talk to himself out loud, as some people do in trouble. "Bless her comely face,"said he, "and to think I had my arm lifted to strike her, after wearing her so low?, and finding her good stuff upon the whole. Well, thank my stars I didn't We must make the best on't: money's gone; but here's the garden and our hands still; and 'tain't as if we were single to gnaw our hearts alone: wedded life cuts grief a two. Let's make it up and begin again. Sixty come Martinmas, and Susan forty-eight: and I be a'most weary of turning moulds."He went round to his front door.
There was a crowd round it; a buzzing crowd with all their faces turned towards his door.
