by W. W. Jacobs
Produced by David Widger
ODD CRAFT
By W.W. Jacobs
THE CHANGING NUMBERS
The tall clock in the corner of the small living-room had just struckeight as Mr. Samuel Gunnill came stealthily down the winding staircaseand, opening the door at the foot, stepped with an appearance of greatcare and humility into the room. He noticed with some anxiety that hisdaughter Selina was apparently engrossed in her task of attending to theplants in the window, and that no preparations whatever had been made forbreakfast.
"Mr. Samuel Gunnill came stealthily down the windingstaircase."]
Miss Gunnill's horticultural duties seemed interminable. She snipped offdead leaves with painstaking precision, and administered water with thejealous care of a druggist compounding a prescription; then, with herback still toward him, she gave vent to a sigh far too intense in itsnature to have reference to such trivialities as plants. She repeated ittwice, and at the second time Mr. Gunnill, almost without his knowledge,uttered a deprecatory cough.
His daughter turned with alarming swiftness and, holding herself veryupright, favoured him with a glance in which indignation and surprisewere very fairly mingled.
"That white one--that one at the end," said Mr. Gunnill, with anappearance of concentrated interest, "that's my fav'rite."
Miss Gunnill put her hands together, and a look of infinitelong-suffering came upon her face, but she made no reply.
"Always has been," continued Mr. Gunnill, feverishly, "from a--from acutting."
"Bailed out," said Miss Gunnill, in a deep and thrilling voice; "bailedout at one o'clock in the morning, brought home singing loud enough forhalf-a-dozen, and then talking about flowers!"
Mr. Gunnill coughed again.
"I was dreaming," pursued Miss Gunnill, plaintively, "sleepingpeacefully, when I was awoke by a horrible noise."
"That couldn't ha' been me," protested her father. "I was only a bitcheerful. It was Benjamin Ely's birthday yesterday, and after we leftthe Lion they started singing, and I just hummed to keep 'em company. Iwasn't singing, mind you, only humming--when up comes that interferingCooper and takes me off."
Miss Gunnill shivered, and with her pretty cheek in her hand sat by thewindow the very picture of despondency. "Why didn't he take the others?"she inquired.
"Ah!" said Mr. Gunnill, with great emphasis, "that's what a lot more ofus would like to know. P'r'aps if you'd been more polite to Mrs. Cooper,instead o' putting it about that she looked young enough to be hismother, it wouldn't have happened."
His daughter shook her head impatiently and, on Mr. Gunnill making anallusion to breakfast, expressed surprise that he had got the heart toeat any-thing. Mr. Gunnill pressing the point, however, she arose andbegan to set the table, the undue care with which she smoothed out thecreases of the table-cloth, and the mathematical exactness with which sheplaced the various articles, all being so many extra smarts in his wound.When she finally placed on the table enough food for a dozen people hebegan to show signs of a little spirit.
"Ain't you going to have any?" he demanded, as Miss Gunnill resumed herseat by the window.
"Me?" said the girl, with a shudder. "Breakfast? The disgrace isbreakfast enough for me. I couldn't eat a morsel; it would choke me."
Mr. Gunnill eyed her over the rim of his teacup. "I come down an hourago," he said, casually, as he helped himself to some bacon.
Miss Gunnill started despite herself. "Oh!" she said, listlessly.
"And I see you making a very good breakfast all by yourself in thekitchen," continued her father, in a voice not free from the taint oftriumph.
The discomfited Selina rose and stood regarding him; Mr. Gunnill, after avain attempt to meet her gaze, busied himself with his meal.
"The idea of watching every mouthful I eat!" said Miss Gunnill,tragically; "the idea of complaining because I have some breakfast! I'dnever have believed it of you, never! It's shameful! Fancy grudgingyour own daughter the food she eats!"
Mr. Gunnill eyed her in dismay. In his confusion he had overestimatedthe capacity of his mouth, and he now strove in vain to reply to thisshameful perversion of his meaning. His daughter stood watching him withgrief in one eye and calculation in the other, and, just as he had puthimself into a position to exercise his rights of free speech, gave apathetic sniff and walked out of the room.
She stayed indoors all day, but the necessity of establishing hisinnocence took Mr. Gunnill out a great deal. His neighbours, in the hopeof further excitement, warmly pressed him to go to prison rather than paya fine, and instanced the example of an officer in the Salvation Army,who, in very different circumstances, had elected to take that course.Mr. Gunnill assured them that only his known antipathy to the army, andthe fear of being regarded as one of its followers, prevented him fromdoing so. He paid instead a fine of ten shillings, and after listeningto a sermon, in which his silver hairs served as the text, was permittedto depart. His feeling against Police-constable Cooper increased withthe passing of the days. The constable watched him with the air of aproprietor, and Mrs. Cooper's remark that "her husband had had his eyeupon him for a long time, and that he had better be careful for thefuture," was faithfully retailed to him within half an hour of itsutterance. Convivial friends counted his cups for him; teetotal friendsmore than hinted that Cooper was in the employ of his good angel.
"The constable watched him with the air of a proprietor."]
Miss Gunnill's two principal admirers had an arduous task to perform.They had to attribute Mr. Gunnill's disaster to the vindictiveness ofCooper, and at the same time to agree with his daughter that it servedhim right. Between father and daughter they had a difficult time, Mr.Gunnill's sensitiveness having been much heightened by his troubles.
"Cooper ought not to have taken you," said Herbert Sims for the fiftiethtime.
"He must ha' seen you like it dozens o' times before," said Ted Drill,who, in his determination not to be outdone by Mr. Sims, was notdisplaying his usual judgment. "Why didn't he take you then? That'swhat you ought to have asked the magistrate."
"I don't understand you," said Mr. Gunnill, with an air of cold dignity.
"Why," said Mr. Drill, "what I mean is--look at that night, for instance,when----"
He broke off suddenly, even his enthusiasm not being proof against theextraordinary contortions of visage in which Mr. Gunnill was indulging.
"When?" prompted Selina and Mr. Sims together. Mr. Gunnill, after firstdaring him with his eye, followed suit.
"That night at the Crown," said Mr. Drill, awkwardly. "You know; whenyou thought that Joe Baggs was the landlord. You tell 'em; you tell itbest. I've roared over it."
"I don't know what you're driving at," said the harassed Mr. Gunnill,bitterly.
"H'm!" said Mr. Drill, with a weak laugh. "I've been mixing you up withsomebody else."
Mr. Gunnill, obviously relieved, said that he ought to be more careful,and pointed out, with some feeling, that a lot of mischief was causedthat way.
"Cooper wants a lesson, that's what he wants," said Mr. Sims, valiantly."He'll get his head broke one of these days."
Mr. Gunnill acquiesced. "I remember when I was on the _Peewit,_" hesaid, musingly, "one time when we were lying at Cardiff, there was apoliceman there run one of our chaps in, and two nights afterward anotherof our chaps pushed the policeman down in the mud and ran off with hisstaff and his helmet."
Miss Gunnill's eyes glistened. "What happened?" she inquired.
"He had to leave the force," replied her father; "he couldn't stand thedisgrace of it. The chap that pushed him over was quite a little chap,too. About the size of Herbert here."
Mr. Sims started.
"Ver
y much like him in face, too," pursued Mr. Gunnill; "daring chap hewas."
Miss Gunnill sighed. "I wish he lived in Little-stow," she said, slowly."I'd give anything to take that horrid Mrs. Cooper down a bit. Cooperwould be the laughing-stock of the town."
Messrs. Sims and Drill looked unhappy. It was hard to have to affect anattitude of indifference in the face of Miss Gunnill's lawless yearnings;to stand before her as respectable and law-abiding cravens. Her eyes,large and sorrowful; dwelt on them both.
"If I--I only get a chance at Cooper!" murmured Mr. Sims,