by W. W. Jacobs
A GOLDEN VENTURE
The elders of the Tidger family sat at breakfast--Mrs. Tidger with kneeswide apart and the youngest Tidger nestling in the valley of print-dresswhich lay between, and Mr. Tidger bearing on one moleskin knee a smallcopy of himself in a red flannel frock and a slipper. The larger Tidgerchildren took the solids of their breakfast up and down thestone-flagged court outside, coming in occasionally to gulp draughts ofvery weak tea from a gallipot or two which stood on the table, and towheedle Mr. Tidger out of any small piece of bloater which he feltgenerous enough to bestow.
"Peg away, Ann," said Mr. Tidger, heartily.
His wife's elder sister shook her head, and passing the remains of herslice to one of her small nephews, leaned back in her chair. "Noappetite, Tidger," she said, slowly.
"You should go in for carpentering," said Mr. Tidger, in justificationof the huge crust he was carving into mouthfuls with his pocket-knife."Seems to me I can't eat enough sometimes. Hullo, who's the letter for?"
He took it from the postman, who stood at the door amid a bevy ofTidgers who had followed him up the court, and slowly read the address.
"'Mrs. Ann Pullen,'" he said, handing it over to his sister-in-law;"nice writing, too."
Mrs. Pullen broke the envelope, and after a somewhat lengthy search forher pocket, fumbled therein for her spectacles. She then searched themantelpiece, the chest of drawers, and the dresser, and finally ran themto earth on the copper.
She was not a good scholar, and it took her some time to read theletter, a proceeding which she punctuated with such "Ohs" and "Ahs" andgaspings and "God bless my souls" as nearly drove the carpenter and hiswife, who were leaning forward impatiently, to the verge of desperation.
"Who's it from?" asked Mr. Tidger for the third time.
"I don't know," said Mrs. Pullen. "Good gracious, who ever would ha'thought it!"
"Thought what, Ann?" demanded the carpenter, feverishly.
"Why don't people write their names plain?" demanded his sister-in-law,impatiently. "It's got a printed name up in the corner; perhaps that'sit. Well, I never did--I don't know whether I'm standing on my head ormy heels."
"You're sitting down, that's what you're a-doing," said the carpenter,regarding her somewhat unfavourably.
"Perhaps it's a take-in," said Mrs. Pullen, her lips trembling. "I'veheard o' such things. If it is, I shall never get over it--never."
"Get--over--what?" asked the carpenter.
"It don't look like a take-in," soliloquized Mrs. Pullen, "and Ishouldn't think anybody'd go to all that trouble and spend a penny totake in a poor thing like me."
Mr. Tidger, throwing politeness to the winds, leaped forward, andsnatching the letter from her, read it with feverish haste, tempered bya defective education.
"It's a take-in, Ann," he said, his voice trembling; "it must be."
"What is?" asked Mrs. Tidger, impatiently.
"Looks like it," said Mrs. Pullen, feebly.
"What is it?" screamed Mrs. Tidger, wrought beyond all endurance.
Her husband turned and regarded her with much severity, but Mrs.Tidger's gaze was the stronger, and after a vain attempt to meet it, hehanded her the letter.
Mrs. Tidger read it through hastily, and then snatching the baby fromher lap, held it out with both arms to her husband, and jumping up,kissed her sister heartily, patting her on the back in her excitementuntil she coughed with the pain of it.
"You don't think it's a take-in, Polly?" she inquired.
"Take-in?" said her sister; "of course it ain't. Lawyers don't playjokes; their time's too valuable. No, you're an heiress all right, Ann,and I wish you joy. I couldn't be more pleased if it was myself."
She kissed her again, and going to pat her back once more, discoveredthat she had sunk down sufficiently low in her chair to obtain theprotection of its back.
"Two thousand pounds," said Mrs. Pullen, in an awestruck voice.
"Ten hundered pounds twice over," said the carpenter, mouthing itslowly; "twenty hundered pounds."
He got up from the table, and instinctively realizing that he could notdo full justice to his feelings with the baby in his arms, laid it onthe teatray in a puddle of cold tea and stood looking hard at theheiress.
"I was housekeeper to her eleven years ago," said Mrs. Pullen. "I wonderwhat she left it to me for?"
"Didn't know what to do with it, I should think," said the carpenter,still staring openmouthed.
"Tidger, I'm ashamed of you," said his wife, snatching her infant to herbosom. "I expect you was very good to her, Ann."
"I never 'ad no luck," said the impenitent carpenter. "Nobody ever leftme no money. Nobody ever left me so much as a fi-pun note."
He stared round disdainfully at his poor belongings, and drawing on hiscoat, took his bag from a corner, and hoisting it on his shoulder,started to his work. He scattered the news as he went, and it ran up anddown the little main street of Thatcham, and thence to the outlyinglanes and cottages. Within a couple of hours it was common property, andthe fortunate legatee was presented with a congratulatory address everytime she ventured near the door.
It is an old adage that money makes friends; the carpenter was surprisedto find that the mere fact of his having a moneyed relation had the sameeffect, and that men to whom he had hitherto shown a certain amount ofrespect due to their position now sought his company. They stood himbeer at the "Bell," and walked by his side through the street. When theytook to dropping in of an evening to smoke a pipe the carpenter wasradiant with happiness.
"You don't seem to see beyond the end of your nose, Tidger," said thewife of his bosom after they had retired one evening.
"H'm?" said the startled carpenter.
"What do you think old Miller, the dealer, comes here for?" demanded hiswife.
"Smoke his pipe," replied her husband, confidently.
"And old Wiggett?" persisted Mrs. Tidger.
"Smoke his pipe," was the reply. "Why, what's the matter, Polly?"
Mrs. Tidger sniffed derisively. "You men are all alike," she snapped."What do you think Ann wears that pink bodice for?"
"I never noticed she 'ad a pink bodice, Polly," said the carpenter.
"No? That's what I say. You men never notice anything," said his wife."If you don't send them two old fools off, I will."
"Don't you like 'em to see Ann wearing pink?" inquired the mystifiedTidger.
Mrs. Tidger bit her lip and shook her head at him scornfully. "In plainEnglish, Tidger, as plain as I can speak it,"--she said, severely,"they're after Ann and 'er bit o' money."
Mr. Tidger gazed at her open-mouthed, and taking advantage of that fact,blew out the candle to hide his discomposure. "What!" he said, blankly,"at 'er time o' life?"
"Watch 'em to-morrer," said his wife.
The carpenter acted upon his instructions, and his ire rose as henoticed the assiduous attention paid by his two friends to the frivolousMrs. Pullen. Mr. Wiggett, a sharp-featured little man, was doing most ofthe talking, while his rival, a stout, clean-shaven man with a slow,oxlike eye, looked on stolidly. Mr. Miller was seldom in a hurry, andlost many a bargain through his slowness--a fact which sometimes sopainfully affected the individual who had outdistanced him that he wouldoffer to let him have it at a still lower figure.
"You get younger than ever, Mrs. Pullen."]
"You get younger than ever, Mrs. Pullen," said Wiggett, the conversationhaving turned upon ages.
"Young ain't the word for it," said Miller, with a praiseworthydetermination not to be left behind.
"No; it's age as you're thinking of, Mr. Wiggett," said the carpenter,slowly; "none of us gets younger, do we, Ann?"
"Some of us keeps young in our ways," said Mrs. Pullen, somewhatshortly.
"How old should you say Ann is now?" persisted the watchful Tidger.
Mr. Wiggett shook his head. "I should say she's about fifteen yearsyounger nor me," he said, slowly, "and I'm as lively as a cricket."
"She's fifty-fiv
e," said the carpenter.
"That makes you seventy, Wiggett," said Mr. Miller, pointedly. "Ithought you was more than that. You look it."
Mr. Wiggett coughed sourly. "I'm fifty-nine," he growled. "Nothing'llmake me believe as Mrs. Pullen's fifty-five, nor anywhere near it."
"Ho!" said the carpenter, on his mettle--"ho! Why, my wife here was thesixth child, and she--- He caught a gleam in the sixth child's eye, andexpressed her age with a cough. The others waited politely until he hadfinished, and Mr. Tidger, noticing this, coughed again.
"And she--" prompted Mr. Miller, displaying a polite interest.
"She ain't so young as she was," said the carpenter.
"Cares of a family," said Mr. Wiggett, plumping boldly. "I alwaysthought Mrs. Pullen was younger than her."
"So did I," said Mr. Miller, "much younger."
Mr. Wiggett eyed him sharply. It was rather hard to have Miller hidinghis lack of invention by participating in his compliments and evenimproving upon them. It was the way he dealt at market-listening toother dealers' accounts of their wares, and adding to them for his own.
"I was noticing you the other day, ma'am," continued Mr. Wiggett. "I seeyou going up the road with a step free and easy as a young girl's."
"She allus walks like that," said Mr. Miller, in a tone of surprisedreproof.
"It's in the family," said the carpenter, who had been uneasily watchinghis wife's face.
"Both of you seem to notice a lot," said Mrs. Tidger; "much more thanyou used to."
Mr. Tidger, who was of a nervous and sensitive disposition, coughedagain.
"You ought to take something for that cough," said Mr. Wiggett,considerately.
"Gin and beer," said Mr. Miller, with the air of a specialist.
"Bed's the best thing for it," said Mrs. Tidger, whose temper wasbeginning to show signs of getting out of hand.
Mr. Tidger rose and looked awkwardly at his visitors; Mr. Wiggett gotup, and pretending to notice the time, said he must be going, and lookedat Mr. Miller. That gentleman, who was apparently deep in some knottyproblem, was gazing at the floor, and oblivious for the time to hissurroundings.
"Come along," said Wiggett, with feigned heartiness, slapping him on theback.
Mr. Miller, looking for a moment as though he would like to return thecompliment, came back to everyday life, and bidding the companygood-night, stepped to the door, accompanied by his rival. It wasimmediately shut with some violence.
"They seem in a hurry," said Wiggett. "I don't think I shall go thereagain."
"I don't think I shall," said Mr. Miller.
After this neither of them was surprised to meet there again the nextnight, and indeed for several nights. The carpenter and his wife, whodid not want the money to go out of the family, and were also afraid ofoffending Mrs. Pullen, were at their wits' end what to do. Ultimately itwas resolved that Tidger, in as delicate a manner as possible, was tohint to her that they were after her money. He was so vague and sodelicate that Mrs. Pullen misunderstood him, and fancying that he wastrying to borrow half a crown, made him a present of five shillings.
It was evident to the slower-going Mr. Miller that his rival's tonguewas giving him an advantage which only the ever-watchful presence of thecarpenter and his wife prevented him from pushing to the fullestadvantage. In these circumstances he sat for two hours after breakfastone morning in deep cogitation, and after six pipes got up with atwinkle in his slow eyes which his brother dealers had got to regard asa danger signal.
He had only the glimmering of an idea at first, but after a couple ofpints at the "Bell" everything took shape, and he cast his eyes aboutfor an assistant. They fell upon a man named Smith, and the dealer,after some thought, took up his glass and went over to him.
"I want you to do something for me," he remarked, in a mysterious voice.
"Ah, I've been wanting to see you," said Smith, who was also a dealer ina small way. "One o' them hins I bought off you last week is dead."
"I'll give you another for it," said Miller.
"And the others are so forgetful," continued Mr. Smith.
"Forgetful?" repeated the other.
"Forget to lay, like," said Mr. Smith, musingly.
"Never mind about them," said Mr. Miller, with some animation. "I wantyou to do something for me. If it comes off all right, I'll give you adozen hins and a couple of decentish-sized pigs."
Mr. Smith called a halt. "Decentish-sized" was vague.
"Take your pick," said Mr. Miller. "You know Mrs. Pullen's got twothousand pounds--"
"Wiggett's going to have it," said the other; "he as good as told meso."
"He's after her money," said the other, sadly. "Look 'ere, Smith, I wantyou to tell him she's lost it all. Say that Tidger told you, but youwasn't to tell anybody else. Wiggett'll believe you."
Mr. Smith turned upon him a face all wrinkles, lit by one eye. "I wantthe hins and the pigs first," he said, firmly.
Mr. Miller, shocked at his grasping spirit, stared at him mournfully.
"And twenty pounds the day you marry Mrs. Pullen," continued Mr. Smith.
Mr. Miller, leading him up and down the sawdust floor, besought him tolisten to reason, and Mr. Smith allowed the better feelings of ourcommon human nature to prevail to the extent of reducing his demands tohalf a dozen fowls on account, and all the rest on the day of themarriage. Then, with the delightful feeling that he wouldn't do any workfor a week, he went out to drop poison into the ears of Mr. Wiggett.
"Lost all her money!" said the startled Mr. Wiggett. "How?"
"I don't know how," said his friend. "Tidger told me, but made mepromise not to tell a soul. But I couldn't help telling you, Wiggett,'cause I know what you're after."
"Do me a favour," said the little man.
"I will," said the other.
"Keep it from Miller as long as possible. If you hear any one elsetalking of it, tell 'em to keep it from him. If he marries her I'll giveyou a couple of pints."
Mr. Smith promised faithfully, and both the Tidgers and Mrs. Pullen weresurprised to find that Mr. Miller was the only visitor that evening. Hespoke but little, and that little in a slow, ponderous voice intendedfor Mrs. Pullen's ear alone. He spoke disparagingly of money, and shookhis head slowly at the temptations it brought in its train. Give him acrust, he said, and somebody to halve it with--a home-made crust bakedby a wife. It was a pretty picture, but somewhat spoiled by Mrs. Tidgersuggesting that, though he had spoken of halving the crust, he had saidnothing about the beer.
"Half of my beer wouldn't be much," said the dealer, slowly.
"Not the half you would give your wife wouldn't," retorted Mrs. Tidger.
The dealer sighed and looked mournfully at Mrs. Pullen. The lady sighedin return, and finding that her admirer's stock of conversation seemedto be exhausted, coyly suggested a game of draughts. The dealer assentedwith eagerness, and declining the offer of a glass of beer by explainingthat he had had one the day before yesterday, sat down and lost sevengames right off. He gave up at the seventh game, and pushing back hischair, said that he thought Mrs. Pullen was the most wonderfuldraught-player he had ever seen, and took no notice when Mrs. Tidger, ina dry voice charged with subtle meaning, said that she thought he was.
"Draughts come natural to some people," said Mrs. Pullen, modestly."It's as easy as kissing your fingers."
Mr. Miller looked doubtful; then he put his great fingers to his lips byway of experiment, and let them fall unmistakably in the widow'sdirection. Mrs. Pullen looked down and nearly blushed. The carpenter andhis wife eyed each other in indignant consternation.
"That's easy enough," said the dealer, and repeated the offense.
Mrs. Pullen got up in some confusion, and began to put the draught-boardaway. One of the pieces fell on the floor, and as they both stooped torecover it their heads bumped. It was nothing to the dealer's, but Mrs.Pullen rubbed hers and sat down with her eyes watering. Mr. Miller tookout his handkerchief, and going to the scullery, dippe
d it into waterand held it to her head.
"Is it better?" he inquired.
"A little better," said the victim, with a shiver.
Mr. Miller, in his emotion, was squeezing the handkerchief hard, and acold stream was running down her neck.
"Thank you. It's all right now."
The dealer replaced the handkerchief, and sat for some time regardingher earnestly. Then the carpenter and his wife displaying manifest signsof impatience, he took his departure, after first inviting himself foranother game of draughts the following night.
He walked home with the air of a conqueror, and thought exultingly thatthe two thousand pounds were his. It was a deal after his own heart, andnot the least satisfactory part about it was the way he had got thebetter of Wiggett.
He completed his scheme the following day after a short interview withthe useful Smith. By the afternoon Wiggett found that his exclusiveinformation was common property, and all Thatcham was marvelling at thefortitude with which Mrs. Pullen was bearing the loss of her fortune.With a view of being out of the way when the denial was published, Mr.Miller, after loudly expressing in public his sympathy for Mrs. Pullenand his admiration of her qualities, drove over with some pigs to aneighbouring village, returning to Thatcham in the early evening. Thenhurriedly putting his horse up he made his way to the carpenter's.
The Tidgers were at home when he entered, and Mrs. Pullen flushedfaintly as he shook hands.
"I was coming in before," he said, impressively, "after what I heardthis afternoon, but I had to drive over to Thorpe."
"You 'eard it?" inquired the carpenter, in an incredulous voice.
"Certainly," said the dealer, "and very sorry I was. Sorry for onething, but glad for another."
The carpenter opened his mouth and seemed about to speak. Then hechecked himself suddenly and gazed with interest at the ingenuousdealer.
"I'm glad," said Mr. Miller, slowly, as he nodded at a friend of Mrs.Tidger's who had just come in with a long face, "because now that Mrs.Pullen is poor, I can say to her what I couldn't say while she wasrich."
Again the astonished carpenter was about to speak, but the dealerhastily checked him with his hand.
"One at a time," he said. "Mrs. Pullen, I was very sorry to hear thisafternoon, for your sake, that you had lost all your money. What Iwanted to say to you now, now that you are poor, was to ask you to beMrs. Miller. What d'ye say?"
Mrs. Pullen, touched at so much goodness, wept softly and said, "Yes."The triumphant Miller took out his handkerchief--the same that he hadused the previous night, for he was not an extravagant man--and tenderlywiped her eyes.
"Well, I'm blowed!" said the staring carpenter.
"I've got a nice little 'ouse," continued the wily Mr. Miller. "It's apoor place, but nice, and we'll play draughts every evening. When shallit be?"
"When you like," said Mrs. Pullen, in a faint voice.
"I'll put the banns up to-morrow," said the dealer.
Mrs. Tidger's lady friend giggled at so much haste, but Mrs. Tidger, whofelt that she had misjudged him, was touched.
"It does you credit, Mr. Miller," she said, warmly.
"No, no," said the dealer; and then Mr. Tidger got up, and crossing theroom, solemnly shook hands with him.
"Money or no money, she'll make a good wife," he said.
"I'm glad you're pleased," said the dealer, wondering at thiscordiality.
"I don't deny I thought you was after her money," continued thecarpenter, solemnly. "My missus thought so, too."
Mr. Miller shook his head, and said he thought they would have known himbetter.
"Of course it is a great loss," said the carpenter. "Money is money."
"That's all it is, though," said the slightly mystified Mr. Miller.
"What I can't understand is," continued the carpenter, "'ow the news gotabout. Why, the neighbours knew of it a couple of hours before we did."
The dealer hid a grin. Then he looked a bit bewildered again.
"I assure you," said the carpenter, "it was known in the town at least acouple of hours before we got the letter."
Mr. Miller waited a minute to get perfect control over his features."Letter?" he repeated, faintly.
"The letter from the lawyers," said the carpenter.
Mr. Miller was silent again. His features were getting tiresome. He eyedthe door furtively.
"What-was-in-the letter?" he asked.
"Short and sweet," said the carpenter, with bitterness. "Said it was alla mistake, because they'd been and found another will. People shouldn'tmake such mistakes."
"We're all liable to make mistakes," said Miller, thinking he saw anopening.
"Yes, we made a mistake when we thought you was after Ann's money,"assented the carpenter. "I'm sure I thought you'd be the last man in theworld to be pleased to hear that she'd lost it. One thing is, you've gotenough for both."
Mr. Miller made no reply, but in a dazed way strove to realize the fullmeasure of the misfortune which had befallen him. The neighbour, withthe anxiety of her sex to be the first with a bit of news, had alreadytaken her departure. He thought of Wiggett walking the earth a free man,and of Smith with a three-months' bill for twenty pounds. His pride as adealer was shattered beyond repair, and emerging from a species of mist,he became conscious that the carpenter was addressing him.
"We'll leave you two young things alone for a bit," said Mr. Tidger,heartily. "We're going out. When you're tired o' courting you can playdraughts, and Ann will show you one or two of 'er moves. So long."
THREE AT TABLE
The talk in the coffee-room had been of ghosts and apparitions, andnearly everybody present had contributed his mite to the stock ofinformation upon a hazy and somewhat thread-bare subject. Opinionsranged from rank incredulity to childlike faith, one believer going sofar as to denounce unbelief as impious, with a reference to the Witch ofEndor, which was somewhat marred by being complicated in an inexplicablefashion with the story of Jonah.
"Talking of Jonah," he said solemnly, with a happy disregard of the factthat he had declined to answer several eager questions put to him on thesubject, "look at the strange tales sailors tell us."
"I wouldn't advise you to believe all those," said a bluff, clean-shavenman, who had been listening without speaking much. "You see when asailor gets ashore he's expected to have something to tell, and hisfriends would be rather disappointed if he had not."
"It's a well-known fact," interrupted the first speaker firmly, "thatsailors are very prone to see visions."
"They are," said the other dryly, "they generally see them in pairs, andthe shock to the nervous system frequently causes headache nextmorning."
"You never saw anything yourself?" suggested an unbeliever.
"Man and boy," said the other, "I've been at sea thirty years, and theonly unpleasant incident of that kind occurred in a quiet Englishcountryside."
"And that?" said another man.
"I was a young man at the time," said the narrator, drawing at his pipeand glancing good-humouredly at the company. "I, had just come back fromChina, and my own people being away I went down into the country toinvite myself to stay with an uncle. When I got down to the place Ifound it closed and the family in the South of France; but as they weredue back in a couple of days I decided to put up at the Royal George, avery decent inn, and await their return.
"The first day I passed well enough; but in the evening the dulness ofthe rambling old place, in which I was the only visitor, began to weighupon my spirits, and the next morning after a late breakfast I set outwith the intention of having a brisk day's walk.
"I started off in excellent spirits, for the day was bright and frosty,with a powdering of snow on the iron-bound roads and nipped hedges, andthe country had to me all the charm of novelty. It was certainly flat,but there was plenty of timber, and the villages through which I passedwere old and picturesque.
"I lunched luxuriously on bread and cheese and beer in the bar of asmall inn, and res
olved to go a little further before turning back. Whenat length I found I had gone far enough, I turned up a lane at rightangles to the road I was passing, and resolved to find my way back byanother route. It is a long lane that has no turning, but this hadseveral, each of which had turnings of its own, which generally led, asI found by trying two or three of them, into the open marshes. Then,tired of lanes, I resolved to rely upon the small compass which hungfrom my watch chain and go across country home.
"I had got well into the marshes when a white fog, which had been forsome time hovering round the edge of the ditches, began gradually tospread. There was no escaping it, but by aid of my compass I was savedfrom making a circular tour and fell instead into frozen ditches orstumbled over roots in the grass. I kept my course, however, until atfour o'clock, when night was coming rapidly up to lend a hand to thefog, I was fain to confess myself lost.
"The compass was now no good to me, and I wandered about miserably,occasionally giving a shout on the chance of being heard by some passingshepherd or farmhand. At length by great good luck I found my feet on arough road driven through the marshes, and by walking slowly and tappingwith my stick managed to keep to it. I had followed it for some distancewhen I heard footsteps approaching me.
"We stopped as we met, and the new arrival, a sturdy-looking countryman,hearing of my plight, walked back with me for nearly a mile, and puttingme on to a road gave me minute instructions how to reach a village somethree miles distant.
"I was so tired that three miles sounded like ten, and besides that, alittle way off from the road I saw dimly a lighted window. I pointed itout, but my companion shuddered and looked round him uneasily.
"'You won't get no good there,' he said, hastily.
"'Why not?' I asked.
"'There's a something there, sir,' he replied, 'what 'tis I dunno, butthe little 'un belonging to a gamekeeper as used to live in these partssee it, and it was never much good afterward. Some say as it's a poormad thing, others says as it's a kind of animal; but whatever it is, itain't good to see.'
"'Well, I'll keep on, then,' I said. 'Goodnight.'
"He went back whistling cheerily until his footsteps died away in thedistance, and I followed the road he had indicated until it divided intothree, any one of which to a stranger might be said to lead straight on.I was now cold and tired, and having half made up my mind walked slowlyback toward the house.
"At first all I could see of it was the little patch of light at thewindow. I made for that until it disappeared suddenly, and I foundmyself walking into a tall hedge. I felt my way round this until I cameto a small gate, and opening it cautiously, walked, not without somelittle nervousness, up a long path which led to the door. There was nolight and no sound from within. Half repenting of my temerity Ishortened my stick and knocked lightly upon the door.
"I waited a couple of minutes and then knocked again, and my stick wasstill beating the door when it opened suddenly and a tall bony oldwoman, holding a candle, confronted me.
"'What do you want?' she demanded gruffly.
"'I've lost my way,' I said, civilly; 'I want to get to Ashville.'
"'Don't know it,' said the old woman.
"She was about to close the door when a man emerged from a room at theside of the hall and came toward us. An old man of great height andbreadth of shoulder.
"'Ashville is fifteen miles distant,' he said slowly.
"'If you will direct me to the nearest village, I shall be grateful,' Iremarked.
"He made no reply, but exchanged a quick, furtive glance with the woman.She made a gesture of dissent.
"'The nearest place is three miles off,' he said, turning to me andapparently trying to soften a naturally harsh voice; 'if you will giveme the pleasure of your company, I will make you as comfortable as Ican.'
"I hesitated. They were certainly a queer-looking couple, and the gloomyhall with the shadows thrown by the candle looked hardly more invitingthan the darkness outside.
"'You are very kind,' I murmured, irresolutely, 'but--'
"'Come in,' he said quickly; 'shut the door, Anne.'
"Almost before I knew it I was standing inside and the old woman,muttering to herself, had closed the door behind me. With a queersensation of being trapped I followed my host into the room, and takingthe proffered chair warmed my frozen fingers at the fire.
"'Dinner will soon be ready,' said the old man, regarding me closely.'If you will excuse me.'
"I bowed and he left the room. A minute afterward I heard voices; hisand the old woman's, and, I fancied, a third. Before I had finished myinspection of the room he returned, and regarded me with the samestrange look I had noticed before.
"'There will be three of us at dinner,' he said, at length. 'We two andmy son.'
"I bowed again, and secretly hoped that that look didn't run in thefamily.
"'I suppose you don't mind dining in the dark,' he said, abruptly.
"'Not at all,' I replied, hiding my surprise as well as I could, 'butreally I'm afraid I'm intruding. If you'll allow me--'
"He waved his huge gaunt hands. 'We're not going to lose you now we'vegot you,' he said, with a dry laugh. 'It's seldom we have company, andnow we've got you we'll keep you. My son's eyes are bad, and he can'tstand the light. Ah, here is Anne.'
"As he spoke the old woman entered, and, eyeing me stealthily, began tolay the cloth, while my host, taking a chair the other side of thehearth, sat looking silently into the fire. The table set, the old womanbrought in a pair of fowls ready carved in a dish, and placing threechairs, left the room. The old man hesitated a moment, and then, risingfrom his chair, placed a large screen in front of the fire and slowlyextinguished the candles.
"'Blind man's holiday,' he said, with clumsy jocosity, and groping hisway to the door opened it. Somebody came back into the room with him,and in a slow, uncertain fashion took a seat at the table, and thestrangest voice I have ever heard broke a silence which was fastbecoming oppressive.
"'A cold night,' it said slowly.
"I replied in the affirmative, and light or no light, fell to with anappetite which had only been sharpened by the snack in the middle of theday. It was somewhat difficult eating in the dark, and it was evidentfrom the behaviour of my invisible companions that they were as unusedto dining under such circumstances as I was. We ate in silence until theold woman blundered into the room with some sweets and put them with acrash upon the table.
"'Are you a stranger about here?' inquired the curious voice again.
"I replied in the affirmative, and murmured something about my luck instumbling upon such a good dinner.
"'Stumbling is a very good word for it,' said the voice grimly. 'Youhave forgotten the port, father.'
"'So I have,' said the old man, rising. 'It's a bottle of the"Celebrated" to-day; I will get it myself.'
"He felt his way to the door, and closing it behind him, left me alonewith my unseen neighbour. There was something so strange about the wholebusiness that I must confess to more than a slight feeling ofuneasiness.
"My host seemed to be absent a long time. I heard the man opposite laydown his fork and spoon, and half fancied I could see a pair of wildeyes shining through the gloom like a cat's.
"With a growing sense of uneasiness I pushed my chair back. It caughtthe hearthrug, and in my efforts to disentangle it the screen fell overwith a crash and in the flickering light of the fire I saw the face ofthe creature opposite. With a sharp catch of my breath I left my chairand stood with clenched fists beside it. Man or beast, which was it? Theflame leaped up and then went out, and in the mere red glow of the fireit looked more devilish than before.
"For a few moments we regarded each other in silence; then the dooropened and the old man returned. He stood aghast as he saw the warmfirelight, and then approaching the table mechanically put down a coupleof bottles.
"'I beg your pardon,' said I, reassured by his presence, 'but I haveaccidentally overturned the screen. Allow me to replace it.'
"'No,' said the old man, gently, 'let it be.
"'We have had enough of the dark. I'll give you a light.'
"He struck a match and slowly lit the candles. Then--I saw that the manopposite had but the remnant of a face, a gaunt wolfish face in whichone unquenched eye, the sole remaining feature, still glittered. I wasgreatly moved, some suspicion of the truth occurring to me.
"'My son was injured some years ago in a burning house,' said the oldman. 'Since then we have lived a very retired life. When you came to thedoor we--' his voice trembled, 'that is-my son--'
"'I thought," said the son simply, 'that it would be better for me notto come to the dinner-table. But it happens to be my birthday, and myfather would not hear of my dining alone, so we hit upon this foolishplan of dining in the dark. I'm sorry I startled you.'
"'I am sorry,' said I, as I reached across the table and gripped hishand, 'that I am such a fool; but it was only in the dark that youstartled me.'
"From a faint tinge in the old man's cheek and a certain pleasantsoftening of the poor solitary eye in front of me I secretlycongratulated myself upon this last remark.
"'We never see a friend,' said the old man, apologetically, 'and thetemptation to have company was too much for us. Besides, I don't knowwhat else you could have done.'
"'Nothing else half so good, I'm sure,' said I.
"'Come,' said my host, with almost a sprightly air. 'Now we know eachother, draw our chairs to the fire and let's keep this birthday in aproper fashion.'
"He drew a small table to the fire for the glasses and produced a box ofcigars, and placing a chair for the old servant, sternly bade her to sitdown and drink. If the talk was not sparkling, it did not lack forvivacity, and we were soon as merry a party as I have ever seen. Thenight wore on so rapidly that we could hardly believe our ears when in alull in the conversation a clock in the hall struck twelve.
"'A last toast before we retire,' said my host, pitching the end of hiscigar into the fire and turning to the small table.
"We had drunk several before this, but there was something impressive inthe old man's manner as he rose and took up his glass. His tall figureseemed to get taller, and his voice rang as he gazed proudly at hisdisfigured son.
"'The health of the children my boy saved!' he said, and drained hisglass at a draught."
THE END.
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