Part 4 (1/2)
”For any reasonable object,” he said, ”I am ready to see any number of twins--much as I dislike babies--”
But here Caleb interrupted him by bursting into a roar of laughter which lasted for half a minute.
”Babbies! Well I--ho! ho!--'scuse me, sir--but aw dear, aw dear!
Babbies! Bab--” Here he slapped his thigh and broke into another roar, at the end of which he grew fairly black in the face.
”Bless yer innocent heart, sir! They'm a matter o' six foot high, the both--and risin' forty. Dearlove's their name--and lives up the river 'long wi' their sister--Peter an' Paul an' Tamsin (which es short for Thom-a-si-na), an' I've heerd tell as the boys came nigh to bein' chrisn'd Sihon an' Og, on'y the old Vicar said he'd be blowed fust--very free wi' his langwidge was th' ould Vicar.”
”I should fancy so,” said Mr. Fogo; ”but you'll excuse me if I don't quite see, yet, why you advise me to call on these people.”
”No offence, sir. On'y they owns Kit's House, that's all.”
”I see; and Kit's House is the place you have in your mind.”
”That's et, sir.”
”And these Dearloves, where do they live?”
”Furder up the river by two mile.”
”Could you row me up this afternoon to see them?”
Caleb Trotter rose, and drew the back of his hand across his mouth.
”Wi' all the pleasure in life, sir, as Uncle Zachy said when he gi'ed his da'ter in marriage.”
In less than ten minutes Caleb had brought his boat round to the quay. Mr. Fogo stepped in, and was presently seated in the stern and meditatively listening while Caleb rowed--and talked--”like a Trojan.”
Here we may leave them for a while and return to the Admiral, whom we left in the act of plunging furiously into his own house. It was not the habit of that fiery little tar to hide his emotions from the wife of his bosom.
”Emily!” he bellowed, ”Em-i-ly, I say! Come down this instant.”
The three Misses Buzza at the parlour window knew the tone, and shuddered: Mrs. Buzza, up-stairs, heard, trembled, and obeyed.
”Yes, darling. What is it?”
”Fill the warming-pan at once. I'm going to bed.”
”To bed, love!”
”Yes, to bed. Don't I speak plainly enough? To bed, ma'am, to bed, and at once.”
”You are upset, dearest; be cool, I implore you.”
”Be cool! Be coo'--Don't hector me, ma'am, but fetch that warming-pan at once. I'll teach you about being cool! Sophy, pull off my boots.”
They obeyed. The warming-pan was brought--an enormous engine, big enough to hold the Admiral himself--and the bed heated. The Admiral undressed, and, himself a warming-pan of rage, plunged between the sheets. It was a wonder the bed-clothes were not on fire.
”Pull down the blind, and bring me something to eat!”
”Yes, love.”