Part 22 (1/2)
”If you p-p-please 'M,” said Mary, who then stopped short, for something seemed to have got in her throat.
”Mary!” exclaimed Mrs Inglis, severely.
Poor Mary looked as serious directly, as if she were going to lose her situation, and making an effort she began again.
”If you please, 'M, here's Mr-- Oh! dear; oh!--hoo--hoo--guggle-- guggle--gug--gug--gug; choke--choke; cough--cough,” went Mary, burying her face in her ap.r.o.n, and completely losing her breath, and turning almost black in the face with, her efforts to stifle her laughter. ”Oh!
dear; oh! dear,” she said, trying to run out of the room, but Mrs Inglis stopped her, and insisted upon knowing what was the cause of her mirth.
”Oh, 'M, please, 'M, here's Mr Jones come, and wants to see Master; and oh, 'M, please, 'M--he--he--he--he--he--he's in such a mess. Oh! dear; oh! dear; what shall I do!”
”Do,” said Mrs Inglis, at last, quite angrily. ”Why, go and ask Mr Jones to step in here; or no, tell him to step into the drawing-room.”
”Oh, please, 'M, don't,” said Mary, serious in a moment. ”Please, 'M, don't; he ain't fit, and he'll come off black over everything he comes a-nigh.”
”Well, send him here, then,” said Mrs Inglis; and away went Mary back into the hall, and directly after she ushered in Mr Jones, who presented such an appearance that both Mr and Mrs Inglis at once excused poor Mary's laughter, for they had hard work to restrain their own mirth.
Mr Jones was a retired exciseman, and of the description of man known as dapper; he was a little, fat, chubby fellow, who dressed very smartly, always wearing white trousers in the summer, and a buff waistcoat, made so as to show as much s.h.i.+rt-front and as little waistcoat as possible. He was a man who always used to labour under, the idea that he looked very fierce, and, to make himself look fiercer, he used to brush his hair all up into a pyramid over the barren place on the top of his head, so that the hair used to form a regular pomatumed spike. But he did not look at all fierce, for his fat round face, dull eyes, and tenchy mouth would not let him; but he used to speak very loudly, and thump his Malacca cane down on the ground, and strut and look as important as many more people do who have not brains enough to teach them their insignificance as parts of creation, or how very little value they are in the world, which could go on just as well without them.
Now, Mr Jones did not like Mr Inglis; he used to say that Mr Inglis was pompous, and purse-proud, and vain; and, what was more, Mr Inglis had given the little man dreadful offence in buying the two-acre field where the potato piece was that used to be so trampled down.
But I have been keeping Mr Jones waiting, for I said, a little way back, that Mary ushered him into the study, and Mr and Mrs Inglis could hardly keep from laughing; for a droll appearance did Mr Jones present as he strutted into the room, with his hat on, but seeing Mrs Inglis there, he took it off, and made a most pompous bow. But he did not look in bowing trim, his face, buff waistcoat, and s.h.i.+rt, presenting a currant-dumpling appearance rather ludicrous to gaze upon, for they were specked and spotted all over; while his white duck trousers, far above his knees, were dyed of a pitchy black hue, and covered with abominably smelling black mud.
”Now, sir,” said Mr Jones; ”pray, sir, what have you to say to this, sir?”
”Nothing at all, Mr Jones,” said Mr Inglis quietly. ”But may I inquire why I am favoured with this visit?”
”Favoured, sir? Visit, sir? What the ten thousand furies do you mean, sir? Look at my trousers, sir. Do you see them, sir?”
”Of course I see them,” said Mr Inglis, ”and I am sorry to see that you have met with so unfortunate an accident; but pray what has it to do with me?”
”To do with you, sir?” shrieked Mr Jones; ”why, you laid traps for me, sir; snares and pitfalls, sir; but I'll be recompensed, sir, if there's law in England, sir. I won't stand it, sir. I'll--I'll--I'll--I'll-- Confound it, sir; you shall hear from my solicitor, sir.”
And then the little man bounced out of the study, banging the door after him; thumped his stick down on the marble floor of the hall at every step, and strode out of the house, and along the gravel-walk, almost beside himself with pa.s.sion; for he felt convinced that Mr Inglis had been the cause of his mishap. But Mr Inglis was as innocent as his companion, who replied to his interrogative gaze with a look of astonishment so ludicrous that they both laughed long and heartily.
At last Mr Inglis said--”It must be some trick those boys have played.
I must find it out, or we shall be having no end of unpleasantness about it.” And the Squire leaned back in his chair, and laughed till the tears stood in his eyes.
But all this while Mr Jones was fuming worse than ever, for he had pa.s.sed old Sam, Philip, Harry and Fred, standing at the gate of the stable-yard, and no sooner did they catch sight of the strange figure advancing towards them, than they rushed off laughing at such a boisterous rate that Mr Jones felt as though he could have strangled them all.
And now it is only fair that the reader should know how it was that Mr Jones had got into such a pickle, for he certainly was in a very nasty mess indeed. Mr Jones, as I said before, had been very much annoyed because Squire Inglis purchased the little corner field; so, from a petty feeling of spite, he always made a point of walking across the corner, kicking down the bank, and treading heavily upon the young quickset plants. Now, of course the example set by such a big little man as Mr Jones, would be sure to find followers; and this was the case here, for many of the boys of the village used to slip across as well.
But on the evening previous to what has been above related, old Sam took his tools down with him, and had soon dug out a hole about three feet deep just in the centre of the field, and right in the middle of the track; he then borrowed an old tin pail from a cottage near, and filled the hole full of black mud from a filthy drain ditch, which ran along the backs of some of the cottages in the village street, the smell from which was so bad that Fred and his cousins kept their distance while the hole was being filled.
When the pit was about full, Sam carefully sprinkled it over with the earth he had dug out, till it looked like the surrounding surface, when he levelled the place all round, and made it all so much alike that, to the ineffable delight of the boys, he could hardly tell where the pitfall was exactly, and put one of his own feet in above the ankle.
Harry fairly danced with delight, but, seeing that the old man was turning cross, he helped to cover the place again, and then they left the pail at the cottage, and walked back to the Grange. As for the people living close at hand, they were so much accustomed to seeing old Sam working in the field that they took no notice of what he was doing; so there the trap lay, all ready baited for the first man.
Now, it so happened that no one crossed the corner that night, as Sam could readily see when he went down directly after breakfast next morning, for all was just as he left it the night before; but Sam had not gone many yards on his way back, when whom should he meet but Mr Jones, looking very clean and dapper, and most terribly important. He scorned to take any notice of old Sam, but strode on his way till he came to the potato piece, when he deliberately crossed the little dry ditch, trod down the tiny hedge, and then sticking his nose up in the air, as much as to say, ”I'll teach old Inglis to stop up old tracks,”