his series of discoveries in triumph. "A story that goes
straight to the heart—especially at the end. But"—I stopped, and
looked at Trottle.
Trottle entered his protest directly in the shape of a cough.
"Well!" I said, beginning to lose my patience. "Don't you see that I
want you to speak, and that I don't want you to cough?"
"Quite so, ma'am," said Trottle, in a state of respectful obstinacy which
would have upset the temper of a saint. "Relative, I presume, to this
story, ma'am?"
"Yes, Yes!" said Jarber. "By all means let us hear what this good man
has to say."
"Well, sir," answered Trottle, "I want to know why the House over the way
doesn't let, and I don't exactly see how your story answers the question.
That's all I have to say, sir."
I should have liked to contradict my opinionated servant, at that moment.
But, excellent as the story was in itself, I felt that he had hit on the
weak point, so far as Jarber's particular purpose in reading it was
concerned.
"And that is what you have to say, is it?" repeated Jarber. "I enter
this room announcing that I have a series of discoveries, and you jump
instantly to the conclusion that the first of the series exhausts my
resources. Have I your permission, dear lady, to enlighten this obtuse
person, if possible, by reading Number Two?"
"My work is behindhand, ma'am," said Trottle, moving to the door, the
moment I gave Jarber leave to go on.
"Stop where you are," I said, in my most peremptory manner, "and give Mr.
Jarber his fair opportunity of answering your objection now you have made
it."
Trottle sat down with the look of a martyr, and Jarber began to read with
his back turned on the enemy more decidedly than ever.
Going into Society
*
At one period of its reverses, the House fell into the occupation of a
Showman. He was found registered as its occupier, on the parish books of
the time when he rented the House, and there was therefore no need of any
clue to his name. But, he himself was less easy to be found; for, he had
led a wandering life, and settled people had lost sight of him, and
people who plumed themselves on being respectable were shy of admitting
that they had ever known anything of him. At last, among the marsh lands
near the river's level, that lie about Deptford and the neighbouring
market-gardens, a Grizzled Personage in velveteen, with a face so cut up
by varieties of weather that he looked as if he had been tattooed, was
found smoking a pipe at the door of a wooden house on wheels. The wooden
house was laid up in ordinary for the winter, near the mouth of a muddy
creek; and everything near it, the foggy river, the misty marshes, and
the steaming market-gardens, smoked in company with the grizzled man. In
the midst of this smoking party, the funnel-chimney of the wooden house
on wheels was not remiss, but took its pipe with the rest in a
companionable manner.
On being asked if it were he who had once rented the House to Let,
Grizzled Velveteen looked surprised, and said yes. Then his name was
Magsman? That was it, Toby Magsman—which lawfully christened Robert;
but called in the line, from a infant, Toby. There was nothing agin Toby
Magsman, he believed? If there was suspicion of such—mention it!
There was no suspicion of such, he might rest assured. But, some
inquiries were making about that House, and would he object to say why he
left it?
Not at all; why should he? He left it, along of a Dwarf.
Along of a Dwarf?
Mr. Magsman repeated, deliberately and emphatically, Along of a Dwarf.
Might it be compatible with Mr. Magsman's inclination and convenience to
enter, as a favour, into a few particulars?
Mr. Magsman entered into the following particulars.
It was a long time ago, to begin with;—afore lotteries and a deal more
was done away with. Mr. Magsman was looking about for a good pitch, and
he see that house, and he says to himself, "I'll have you, if you're to
be had. If money'll get you, I'll have you."
The neighbours cut up rough,
straight to the heart—especially at the end. But"—I stopped, and
looked at Trottle.
Trottle entered his protest directly in the shape of a cough.
"Well!" I said, beginning to lose my patience. "Don't you see that I
want you to speak, and that I don't want you to cough?"
"Quite so, ma'am," said Trottle, in a state of respectful obstinacy which
would have upset the temper of a saint. "Relative, I presume, to this
story, ma'am?"
"Yes, Yes!" said Jarber. "By all means let us hear what this good man
has to say."
"Well, sir," answered Trottle, "I want to know why the House over the way
doesn't let, and I don't exactly see how your story answers the question.
That's all I have to say, sir."
I should have liked to contradict my opinionated servant, at that moment.
But, excellent as the story was in itself, I felt that he had hit on the
weak point, so far as Jarber's particular purpose in reading it was
concerned.
"And that is what you have to say, is it?" repeated Jarber. "I enter
this room announcing that I have a series of discoveries, and you jump
instantly to the conclusion that the first of the series exhausts my
resources. Have I your permission, dear lady, to enlighten this obtuse
person, if possible, by reading Number Two?"
"My work is behindhand, ma'am," said Trottle, moving to the door, the
moment I gave Jarber leave to go on.
"Stop where you are," I said, in my most peremptory manner, "and give Mr.
Jarber his fair opportunity of answering your objection now you have made
it."
Trottle sat down with the look of a martyr, and Jarber began to read with
his back turned on the enemy more decidedly than ever.
Going into Society
*
At one period of its reverses, the House fell into the occupation of a
Showman. He was found registered as its occupier, on the parish books of
the time when he rented the House, and there was therefore no need of any
clue to his name. But, he himself was less easy to be found; for, he had
led a wandering life, and settled people had lost sight of him, and
people who plumed themselves on being respectable were shy of admitting
that they had ever known anything of him. At last, among the marsh lands
near the river's level, that lie about Deptford and the neighbouring
market-gardens, a Grizzled Personage in velveteen, with a face so cut up
by varieties of weather that he looked as if he had been tattooed, was
found smoking a pipe at the door of a wooden house on wheels. The wooden
house was laid up in ordinary for the winter, near the mouth of a muddy
creek; and everything near it, the foggy river, the misty marshes, and
the steaming market-gardens, smoked in company with the grizzled man. In
the midst of this smoking party, the funnel-chimney of the wooden house
on wheels was not remiss, but took its pipe with the rest in a
companionable manner.
On being asked if it were he who had once rented the House to Let,
Grizzled Velveteen looked surprised, and said yes. Then his name was
Magsman? That was it, Toby Magsman—which lawfully christened Robert;
but called in the line, from a infant, Toby. There was nothing agin Toby
Magsman, he believed? If there was suspicion of such—mention it!
There was no suspicion of such, he might rest assured. But, some
inquiries were making about that House, and would he object to say why he
left it?
Not at all; why should he? He left it, along of a Dwarf.
Along of a Dwarf?
Mr. Magsman repeated, deliberately and emphatically, Along of a Dwarf.
Might it be compatible with Mr. Magsman's inclination and convenience to
enter, as a favour, into a few particulars?
Mr. Magsman entered into the following particulars.
It was a long time ago, to begin with;—afore lotteries and a deal more
was done away with. Mr. Magsman was looking about for a good pitch, and
he see that house, and he says to himself, "I'll have you, if you're to
be had. If money'll get you, I'll have you."
The neighbours cut up rough,
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