by W. W. Jacobs
Lawyer Quince, so called by his neighbours in Little Haven from hisreadiness at all times to place at their disposal the legal lore he hadacquired from a few old books while following his useful occupation ofmaking boots, sat in a kind of wooden hutch at the side of his cottageplying his trade. The London coach had gone by in a cloud of dust somethree hours before, and since then the wide village street had slumberedalmost undisturbed in the sunshine.
Hearing footsteps and the sound of voices raised in dispute caused himto look up from his work. Mr. Rose, of Holly Farm, Hogg, the miller, andone or two neighbours of lesser degree appeared to be in earnest debateover some point of unusual difficulty.
Lawyer Quince took a pinch of snuff and bent to his work again. Mr. Rosewas one of the very few who openly questioned his legal knowledge, andhis gibes concerning it were only too frequent. Moreover, he had a tastefor practical joking, which to a grave man was sometimes offensive.
"Well, here he be," said Mr. Hogg to the farmer, as the group halted infront of the hutch. "Now ask Lawyer Quince and see whether I ain't toldyou true. I'm willing to abide by what he says."
Mr. Quince put down his hammer and, brushing a little snuff from hiscoat, leaned back in his chair and eyed them with grave confidence.
"It's like this," said the farmer. "Young Pascoe has been hanging roundafter my girl Celia, though I told her she wasn't to have nothing to dowith him. Half an hour ago I was going to put my pony in its stable whenI see a young man sitting there waiting."
"Well?" said Mr. Quince, after a pause.
"He's there yet," said the farmer. "I locked him in, and Hogg here saysthat I've got the right to keep him locked up there as long as I like. Isay it's agin the law, but Hogg he says no. I say his folks would comeand try to break open my stable, but Hogg says if they do I can have thelaw of 'em for damaging my property."
"So you can," interposed Mr. Hogg, firmly. "You see whether LawyerQuince don't say I'm right."
Mr. Quince frowned, and in order to think more deeply closed his eyes.Taking advantage of this three of his auditors, with remarkableunanimity, each closed one.
"It's your stable," said Mr. Quince, opening his eyes and speaking withgreat deliberation, "and you have a right to lock it up when you like."
"There you are," said Mr. Hogg; "what did I tell you?"
"If anybody's there that's got no business there, that's his look-out,"continued Mr. Quince. "You didn't induce him to go in?"
"Certainly not," replied the farmer.
"I told him he can keep him there as long as he likes," said thejubilant Mr. Hogg, "and pass him in bread and water through the winder;it's got bars to it."
"Yes," said Mr. Quince, nodding, "he can do that. As for his folksknocking the place about, if you like to tie up one or two of themnasty, savage dogs of yours to the stable, well, it's your stable, andyou can fasten your dogs to it if you like. And you've generally got aman about the yard."
Mr. Hogg smacked his thigh in ecstasy.
"But--" began the farmer.
"That's the law," said the autocratic Mr. Quince, sharply. "O' course,if you think you know more about it than I do, I've nothing more tosay."
"I don't want to do nothing I could get into trouble for," murmured Mr.Rose.
"You can't get into trouble by doing as I tell you," said the shoemaker,impatiently. "However, to be quite on the safe side, if I was in yourplace I should lose the key."
"Lose the key?" said the farmer, blankly.
"Lose the key," repeated the shoemaker, his eyes watering with intenseappreciation of his own resourcefulness. "You can find it any time youwant to, you know. Keep him there till he promises to give up yourdaughter, and tell him that as soon as he does you'll have a hunt forthe key."
Mr. Rose regarded him with what the shoemaker easily understood to bespeechless admiration.
"I--I'm glad I came to you," said the farmer, at last.
"You're welcome," said the shoemaker, loftily. "I'm always ready to giveadvice to them as require it."
"And good advice it is," said the smiling Mr. Hogg. "Why don't youbehave yourself, Joe Garnham?" he demanded, turning fiercely on alistener.
Mr. Garnham, whose eyes were watering with emotion, attempted toexplain, but, becoming hysterical, thrust a huge red handkerchief to hismouth and was led away by a friend. Mr. Quince regarded his departurewith mild disdain.
"Little things please little minds," he remarked.
"So they do," said Mr. Hogg. "I never thought--What's the matter withyou, George Askew?"
Mr. Askew, turning his back on him, threw up his hands with a helplessgesture and followed in the wake of Mr. Garnham. Mr. Hogg appeared to beabout to apologise, and then suddenly altering his mind made a hasty andunceremonious exit, accompanied by the farmer.
Mr. Quince raised his eyebrows and then, after a long and meditativepinch of snuff, resumed his work. The sun went down and the light fadedslowly; distant voices sounded close on the still evening air, snatchesof hoarse laughter jarred upon his ears. It was clear that the story ofthe imprisoned swain was giving pleasure to Little Haven.
He rose at last from his chair and, stretching his long, gaunt frame,removed his leather apron, and after a wash at the pump went into thehouse. Supper was laid, and he gazed with approval on the home-madesausage rolls, the piece of cold pork, and the cheese which awaited hisonslaught.
"We won't wait for Ned," said Mrs. Quince, as she brought in a jug ofale and placed it by her husband's elbow.
Mr. Quince nodded and filled his glass.
"You've been giving more advice, I hear," said Mrs. Quince.
Her husband, who was very busy, nodded again.
"It wouldn't make no difference to young Pascoe's chance, anyway," saidMrs. Quince, thoughtfully.
Mr. Quince continued his labours. "Why?" he inquired, at last.
His wife smiled and tossed her head.
"Young Pascoe's no chance against our Ned," she said, swelling withmaternal pride.
"Eh?" said the shoemaker, laying down his knife and fork. "Our Ned?"
"They are as fond of each other as they can be," said Mrs. Quince,"though I don't suppose Farmer Rose'll care for it; not but what ourNed's as good as he is."
"Is Ned up there now?" demanded the shoemaker, turning pale, as themirthful face of Mr. Garnham suddenly occurred to him.
"Sure to be," tittered his wife. "And to think o' poor young Pascoe shutup in that stable while he's courting Celia!"
Mr. Quince took up his knife and fork again, but his appetite had gone.Whoever might be paying attention to Miss Rose at that moment he feltquite certain that it was not Mr. Ned Quince, and he trembled with angeras he saw the absurd situation into which the humorous Mr. Rose had ledhim. For years Little Haven had accepted his decisions as final andboasted of his sharpness to neighbouring hamlets, and many a cottagerhad brought his boots to be mended a whole week before their time forthe sake of an interview.
He moved his chair from the table and smoked a pipe. Then he rose, andputting a couple of formidable law-books under his arm, walked slowlydown the road in the direction of Holly Farm.
The road was very quiet and the White Swan, usually full at this hour,was almost deserted, but if any doubts as to the identity of theprisoner lingered in his mind they were speedily dissipated by thebehaviour of the few customers who crowded to the door to see him pass.
A hum of voices fell on his ear as he approached the farm; half the maleand a goodly proportion of the female population of Little Haven wereleaning against the fence or standing in little knots in the road, whilea few of higher social status stood in the farm-yard itself.
"Come down to have a look at the prisoner?" inquired the farmer, who wasstanding surrounded by a little group of admirers.
"I came down to see you about that advice I gave you this afternoon,"said Mr. Quince.
"Ah!" said the other.
"I was busy when you came," continued Mr. Quince, in a voice of easyunconcern, "an
d I gave you advice from memory. Looking up the subjectafter you'd gone I found that I was wrong."
"You don't say so?" said the farmer, uneasily. "If I've done wrong I'monly doing what you told me I could do."
"Mistakes will happen with the best of us," said the shoemaker, loudly,for the benefit of one or two murmurers. "I've known a man to marry awoman for her money before now and find out afterward that she hadn'tgot any."
One unit of the group detached itself and wandered listlessly toward thegate.
"Well, I hope I ain't done nothing wrong," said Mr. Rose, anxiously."You gave me the advice; there's men here as can prove it. I don't wantto do nothing agin the law. What had I better do?"
"Well, if I was you," said Mr. Quince, concealing his satisfaction withdifficulty, "I should let him out at once and beg his pardon, and sayyou hope he'll do nothing about it. I'll put in a word for you if youlike with old Pascoe."
Mr. Rose coughed and eyed him queerly.
"You're a Briton," he said, warmly. "I'll go and let him out at once."
He strode off to the stable, despite the protests of Mr. Hogg, and,standing by the door, appeared to be deep in thought; then he came backslowly, feeling in his pockets as he walked.
"William," he said, turning toward Mr. Hogg, "I s'pose you didn't happento notice where I put that key?"
"That I didn't," said Mr. Hogg, his face clearing suddenly.
"I had it in my hand not half an hour ago," said the agitated Mr. Rose,thrusting one hand into his trouser-pocket and groping. "It can't befar."
Mr. Quince attempted to speak, and, failing, blew his nose violently.
"My memory ain't what it used to be," said the farmer. "Howsomever, Idare say it'll turn up in a day or two."
"You--you'd better force the door," suggested Mr. Quince, struggling topreserve an air of judicial calm.
"No, no," said Mr. Rose; "I ain't going to damage my property like that.I can lock my stable-door and unlock it when I like; if people get inthere as have no business there, it's their look-out."
"That's law," said Mr. Hogg; "I'll eat my hat if it ain't."
"Do you mean to tell me you've really lost the key?" demanded Mr.Quince, eyeing the farmer sternly.
"Seems like it," said Mr. Rose. "However, he won't come to no hurt. I'llput in some bread and water for him, same as you advised me to."
Mr. Quince mastered his wrath by an effort, and with no sign ofdiscomposure moved away without making any reference to the identity ofthe unfortunate in the stable.
"Good-night," said the farmer, "and thank you for coming and giving methe fresh advice. It ain't everybody that 'ud ha' taken the trouble. IfI hadn't lost that key----"
The shoemaker scowled, and with the two fat books under his arm passedthe listening neighbours with the air of a thoughtful man out for anevening stroll. Once inside his house, however, his manner changed, theattitude of Mrs. Quince demanding, at any rate, a show of concern.
"It's no good talking," he said at last. "Ned shouldn't have gone there,and as for going to law about it, I sha'n't do any such thing; I shouldnever hear the end of it. I shall just go on as usual, as if nothing hadhappened, and when Rose is tired of keeping him there he must let himout. I'll bide my time."
Mrs. Quince subsided into vague mutterings as to what she would do ifshe were a man, coupled with sundry aspersions upon the character,looks, and family connections of Farmer Rose, which somewhat consoledher for being what she was.
"He has always made jokes about your advice," she said at length, "andnow everybody'll think he's right. I sha'n't be able to look anybody inthe face. I should have seen through it at once if it had been me. I'mgoing down to give him a bit o' my mind."
"You stay where you are," said Mr. Quince, sharply, "and, mind, you arenot to talk about it to anybody. Farmer Rose 'ud like nothing betterthan to see us upset about it. I ain't done with him yet. You wait."
Mrs. Quince, having no option, waited, but nothing happened. Thefollowing day found Ned Quince still a prisoner, and, considering thecircumstances, remarkably cheerful. He declined point-blank to renouncehis preposterous attentions, and said that, living on the premises, hefelt half like a son-in-law already. He also complimented the farmerupon the quality of his bread.
The next morning found him still unsubdued, and, under interrogationfrom the farmer, he admitted that he liked it, and said that the feelingof being at home was growing upon him.
"If you're satisfied, I am," said Mr. Rose, grimly. "I'll keep you heretill you promise; mind that."
"It's a nobleman's life," said Ned, peeping through the window, "and I'mbeginning to like you as much as my real father."
"I don't want none o' yer impudence," said the farmer, reddening.
"You'll like me better when you've had me here a little longer," saidNed; "I shall grow on you. Why not be reasonable and make up your mindto it? Celia and I have."
"I'm going to send Celia away on Saturday," said Mr. Rose; "makeyourself happy and comfortable in here till then. If you'd like anothercrust o' bread or an extra half pint o' water you've only got to mentionit. When she's gone I'll have a hunt for that key, so as you can go backto your father and help him to understand his law-books better."
He strode off with the air of a conqueror, and having occasion to go tothe village looked in at the shoe-maker's window as he passed and smiledbroadly. For years Little Haven had regarded Mr. Quince with awe, asbeing far too dangerous a man for the lay mind to tamper with, and atone stroke the farmer had revealed the hollowness of his pretensions.Only that morning the wife of a labourer had called and asked him tohurry the mending of a pair of boots. She was a voluble woman, andhaving overcome her preliminary nervousness more than hinted that if hegave less time to the law and more to his trade it would be better forhimself and everybody else.
Miss Rose accepted her lot in a spirit of dutiful resignation, and onSaturday morning after her father's admonition not to forget that thecoach left the White Swan at two sharp, set off to pay a few farewellvisits. By half-past twelve she had finished, and Lawyer Quince becomingconscious of a shadow on his work looked up to see her standing beforethe window. He replied to a bewitching smile with a short nod and becameintent upon his work again.
For a short time Celia lingered, then to his astonishment she opened thegate and walked past the side of the house into the garden. With growingastonishment he observed her enter his tool-shed and close the doorbehind her.
For ten minutes he worked on and then, curiosity getting the better ofhim, he walked slowly to the tool-shed and, opening the door a littleway, peeped in. It was a small shed, crowded with agriculturalimplements. The floor was occupied by an upturned wheelbarrow, andsitting on the barrow, with her soft cheek leaning against the wall, satMiss Rose fast asleep. Mr. Quince coughed several times, each coughbeing louder than the last, and then, treading softly, was about toreturn to the workshop when the girl stirred and muttered in her sleep.At first she was unintelligible, then he distinctly caught the words"idiot" and "blockhead."
"She's dreaming of somebody," said Mr. Quince to himself withconviction.
"Wonder who it is?"
"Can't see--a thing--under--his--nose," murmured the fair sleeper.
"Celia!" said Mr. Quince, sharply. "Celia!"
He took a hoe from the wall and prodded her gently with the handle. Asingularly vicious expression marred the soft features, but that wasall.
"Ce-lia!" said the shoemaker, who feared sun-stroke.
"Fancy if he--had--a moment's common sense," murmured Celia, drowsily,"and locked--the door."
Lawyer Quince dropped the hoe with a clatter and stood regarding heropen-mouthed. He was a careful man with his property, and the stout doorboasted a good lock. He sped to the house on tip-toe, and taking the keyfrom its nail on the kitchen dresser returned to the shed, and afteranother puzzled glance at the sleeping girl locked her in.
For half an hour he sat in silent enjoyment of the situation--enjoymentwhich wou
ld have been increased if he could have seen Mr. Rose standingat the gate of Holly Farm, casting anxious glances up and down the road.Celia's luggage had gone down to the White Swan, and an excellent coldluncheon was awaiting her attention in the living-room.
Half-past one came and no Celia, and five minutes later two farmlabourers and a boy lumbered off in different directions in search ofthe missing girl, with instructions that she was to go straight to theWhite Swan to meet the coach. The farmer himself walked down to the inn,turning over in his mind a heated lecture composed for the occasion, butthe coach came and, after a cheerful bustle and the consumption ofsundry mugs of beer, sped on its way again.
He returned home in silent consternation, seeking in vain for asatisfactory explanation of the mystery. For a robust young woman todisappear in broad day-light and leave no trace behind her wasextraordinary. Then a sudden sinking sensation in the region of thewaistcoat and an idea occurred simultaneously.
He walked down to the village again, the idea growing steadily all theway. Lawyer Quince was hard at work, as usual, as he passed. He went bythe window three times and gazed wistfully at the cottage. Coming to theconclusion at last that two heads were better than one in such abusiness, he walked on to the mill and sought Mr. Hogg.
"That's what it is," said the miller, as he breathed his suspicions. "Ithought all along Lawyer Quince would have the laugh of you. He'swonderful deep. Now, let's go to work cautious like. Try and look as ifnothing had happened."
Mr. Rose tried.
"Try agin," said the miller, with some severity. "Get the red out o'your face and let your eyes go back and don't look as though you'regoing to bite somebody."
Mr. Rose swallowed an angry retort, and with an attempt at careless easesauntered up the road with the miller to the shoemaker's. Lawyer Quincewas still busy, and looked up inquiringly as they passed before him.
"I s'pose," said the diplomatic Mr. Hogg, who was well acquainted withhis neighbour's tidy and methodical habits--"I s'pose you couldn't lendme your barrow for half an hour? The wheel's off mine."
Mr. Quince hesitated, and then favoured him with a glance intended toremind him of his scurvy behaviour three days before.
"You can have it," he said at last, rising.
Mr. Hogg pinched his friend in his excitement, and both watched Mr.Quince with bated breath as he took long, slow strides toward thetool-shed. He tried the door and then went into the house, and evenbefore his reappearance both gentlemen knew only too well what was aboutto happen. Red was all too poor a word to apply to Mr. Rose'scountenance as the shoemaker came toward them, feeling in his waist-coatpocket with hooked fingers and thumb, while Mr. Hogg's expressivefeatures were twisted into an appearance of rosy appreciation.
"Did you want the barrow very particular?" inquired the shoemaker, in aregretful voice.
"Very particular," said Mr. Hogg.
Mr. Quince went through the performance of feeling in all his pockets,and then stood meditatively rubbing his chin.
"The door's locked," he said, slowly, "and what I've done with thatthere key----"
"You open that door," vociferated Mr. Rose, "else I'll break it in.You've got my daughter in that shed and I'm going to have her out."
"Your daughter?" said Mr. Quince, with an air of faint surprise. "Whatshould she be doing in my shed?"
"You let her out," stormed Mr. Rose, trying to push past him.
"Don't trespass on my premises," said Lawyer Quince, interposing hislong, gaunt frame. "If you want that door opened you'll have to waittill my boy Ned comes home. I expect he knows where to find the key."
Mr. Rose's hands fell limply by his side and his tongue, turningprudish, refused its office. He turned and stared at Mr. Hogg in silentconsternation.
"Never known him to be beaten yet," said that admiring weather-cock.
"Ned's been away three days," said the shoemaker, "but I expect him homesoon."
Mr. Rose made a strange noise in his throat and then, accepting hisdefeat, set off at a rapid pace in the direction of home. In amarvellously short space of time, considering his age and figure, he wasseen returning with Ned Quince, flushed and dishevelled, walking by hisside.
"Here he is," said the farmer. "Now where's that key?"
Lawyer Quince took his son by the arm and led him into the house, fromwhence they almost immediately emerged with Ned waving the key.
"I thought it wasn't far," said the sapient Mr. Hogg.
Ned put the key in the lock and flinging the door open revealed CeliaRose, blinking and confused in the sudden sunshine. She drew back as shesaw her father and began to cry with considerable fervour.
"How did you get in that shed, miss?" demanded her parent, stamping.
"I--I went there," she sobbed. "I didn't want to go away."
"Well, you'd better stay there," shouted the over-wrought Mr. Rose."I've done with you. A girl that 'ud turn against her own father I--I--"
He drove his right fist into his left palm and stamped out into theroad. Lawyer Quince and Mr. Hogg, after a moment's hesitation, followed.
"The laugh's agin you, farmer," said the latter gentleman, taking hisarm.
Mr. Rose shook him off.
"Better make the best of it," continued the peace-maker.
"She's a girl to be proud of," said Lawyer Quince, keeping pace with thefarmer on the other side. "She's got a head that's worth yours and mineput together, with Hogg's thrown in as a little makeweight."
"And here's the White Swan," said Mr. Hogg, who had a hazy idea of acompliment, "and all of us as dry as a bone. Why not all go in and havea glass to shut folks' mouths?"
"And cry quits," said the shoemaker.
"And let bygones be bygones," said Mr. Hogg, taking the farmer's armagain.
Mr. Rose stopped and shook his head obstinately, and then, under theskilful pilotage of Mr. Hogg, was steered in the direction of thehospitable doors of the White Swan. He made a last bid for liberty onthe step and then disappeared inside. Lawyer Quince brought up the rear.
BREAKING A SPELL