W. W. Jacobs

“ Jobson, slowly, “I didn't know before that it was wrong to blow your tea; and as for drinking it out of a saucer, the book says it's a thing that is only done by the lower orders.”
“If you're in a hurry?” demanded Mr. Bert Jobson, pausing with his saucer half way to his mouth.
“If you're in anything,” responded his father. “A gentleman would rather go without his tea than drink it out of a saucer. That's the sort o' thing Bill Foley would do.”
Mr. Bert Jobson drained his saucer thoughtfully.
“Picking your teeth with your finger is wrong, too,” said Mr. Jobson, taking a breath. ”

“ If people do you a kindness it's generally because they want to get something out of you; same as a man once—a perfick stranger—wot stood me eight 'arf-pints becos I reminded 'im of his dead brother, and then borrered five bob off of me.
“O' course, there must be some kind-'arted people in the world—all men who get married must 'ave a soft spot somewhere, if it's only in the 'ead—but they don't often give things away. Kind-'artedness is often only another name for artfulness, same as Sam Small's kindness to Ginger Dick and Peter Russet. ”

“ Sharp to a seat opposite Florrie, he began to carve.
“Just a nice comfortable party,” he said, genially, as he finished. “Help yourself to the ale, Bert.”
Mr. Sharp, ignoring the surprise on the faces of the ladies, complied, and passed the bottle to Mr. Culpepper. They drank to each other, and again a flicker of surprise appeared on the faces of Mrs. Culpepper and her niece. Mr. Culpepper, noticing it, shook his head waggishly at Mr. Sharp.
“He drinks it as if he likes it,” he remarked. ”

“ Then she went back into the parlour, and standing before the mantelpiece, looked long and earnestly into the mirror.
Mr. Davis returned a week later—alone, and, pausing at the gate, glanced in dismay at a bill in the window announcing that the house was to be sold. He walked up the path still looking at it, and being admitted by the trim servant was shown into the parlour, and stood in a dispirited fashion before Mrs. Smith.
“Not back yet?” he inquired, gruffly.
The old lady shook her head.
“What—what—is that bill for?” demanded Mr. Davis, jerking his thumb towards it. ”

“ Davis uttered a sharp exclamation, and, falling back a step, stared at her open-mouthed.
“We all make mistakes,” urged Mr. Wotton, after a long silence, “and Ben's sight ain't wot it used to be. He strained it looking out for a sail when we was on that desert——”
“When—when'll she be back?” inquired Mr. Davis, finding his voice at last.
The old lady affected to look puzzled. “But I thought you were certain that I was your wife?” she said, smoothly.
“My mistake,” said Mr. Davis, ruefully. “Thirty-five years is a long time and people change a bit; I have myself. ”

“ Mr. Wright arose and, departing with a suddenness that was almost startling, exploded harmlessly in front of the barber's, next door but one. Then with lagging steps he went in search of the shabbiest cab and oldest horse he could find.
“Thankee, my boy,” said Mr. Kemp, bluffly, as he helped Mrs. Bradshaw in and stood with his foot on the step. “By the way, you had better go back and lock my pocket-book up. I left it on the washstand, and there's best part of a thousand pounds in it. You can take fifty for yourself to buy smokes with.” ”

“ Kemp.
“No more than the other would,” retorted the young man, “and it'll come cheaper. One thing I'll take my oath of, and that is I won't give you another farthing; but if you do as I tell you I'll give you a quid for luck. Now, think it over.”
Mr. Kemp thought it over, and after a vain attempt to raise the promised reward to five pounds, finally compounded for two, and went off to bed after a few stormy words on selfishness and ingratitude. He declined to speak to his host at breakfast next morning, and accompanied him in the evening with the air of a martyr going to the stake. ”

“ Culpepper. “They've got the sense to prefer steadiness and humdrumness to good looks and dash. A young fellow like you earning thirty-two-and-six a week can do without good looks, and if I've told Florrie so once I have told her fifty times.”
“Looks are a matter of taste,” said Mr. Sharp, morosely. “Some of them girls I was speaking about just now—”
“Yes, yes,” said Mr. Culpepper, hastily. “Now, look here; you go on a different tack. Take a glass of ale like a man or a couple o' glasses; smoke a cigarette or a pipe. Be like other young men. ”

“ Kidd had to be led outside and kept there until such time as he could converse in English pure and undefiled.
“Getting above 'imself, that's wot it is,” said Mr. Brown, as they wended their way home. “He's having too much money out of us to spend; but it won't be for long now.”
“He's having a lord's life of it, while we're slaving ourselves to death,” grumbled Mr. Kidd. “I never see'im looking so fat and well. By rights he oughtn't to 'ave the same share as wot we're going to 'ave; he ain't doing none of the work.” ”

“ Clarkson, with great satisfaction. “It'll only make you miserable. It's just one o' the might ha' beens.”
Mr. Smithson, with his back to the fire and his hands twisted behind him, stood with his eyes fixed in thought.
“It's rather cool of Phipps,” he said, after a long silence; “rather cool, I think, to go out of the world and just leave his wife to you to look after. Some men wouldn't stand it. You're too easy-going, Bob, that's what's the matter with you.” ”

“ H'sh! Alf! Alf! I'm surprised at you!”
Mr. Jobson coughed. “It's the collar, mother,” he said at last. “I ain't wore a collar for over twenty years; not since we was walking out together. And then I didn't like it.”
“More shame for you,” said his wife. “I'm sure there's no other respectable tradesman goes about with a handkerchief knotted round his neck.”
“P'r'aps their skins ain't as tender as what mine is,” urged Mr. Jobson; “and besides, fancy me in a top-'at! Why, I shall be the laughing-stock of the place.” ”

“ Hills. “He never knows how much there is in his trousers-pocket. Fancy sewing on buttons for a man like that. Gold-mining ain't in it.”
Mrs. Bradshaw shook her head at him again, and Mr. Hills, after apologizing to her for revealing her innermost thoughts before the most guileless of men, began to question Mr. Kemp as to the prospects of a bright and energetic young man, with a distaste for work, in New Zealand. The audience listened with keen attention to the replies, the only disturbing factor being a cough of Mr. Wright's, which became more and more troublesome as the evening wore on. ”

“ She's never seen me without 'em. I 'ad a remarkable strong growth when I was quite a boy. While other boys was—”
“Shut-up!” vociferated Mr. Kidd.
“Sha'n't!” said Mr. Gibbs, defiantly. “I've 'ad enough of being away from my comfortable little 'ome and my wife; and I'm going to let 'em start growing agin this very night. She'll never reckernize me without 'em, that's certain.”
“He's right, Bob,” said Mr. Brown, with conviction.
“D'ye mean to tell me we've got to wait till 'is blasted whiskers grow?” cried Mr. Kidd, almost dancing with fury. ”

“ Mr. Clarkson agreed, and the following morning, when he called upon Mrs. Phipps at her request, his manner was so distant that she attributed it to ill-health following business worries and the atmosphere of London. In the front parlour Mr. Digson, a small builder and contractor, was busy whitewashing.
“I thought we might as well get on with that,” said Mrs. Phipps; “there is only one way of doing whitewashing, and the room has got to be done. To-morrow Mr. Digson will bring up some papers, and, if you'll come round, you can help me choose.” ”

“ Kindness to animals caused more unpleasantness in Claybury than anything 'ad ever done afore. There was hardly a man as 'ud speak civil to each other, and the wimmen was a'most as bad. Cats and dogs and such-like began to act as if the place belonged to 'em, and seven people stopped Mr. Bunnett one day to tell 'im that Joe Parsons 'ad been putting down rat-poison and killed five little baby rats and their mother.
“It was some time afore anybody knew that Bob Pretty 'ad got 'is eye on that gold watch, and when they did they could 'ardly believe it. ”

“ Mr. Wotton shook his head and his face fell, clearing somewhat as the other handed him his mug. “Drink it all up, George,” he said.
His friend complied. A more tactful man might have taken longer over the job, but Mr. Benjamin Davis, who appeared to be labouring under some strong excitement, took no notice.
“I've had a shock, George,” he said, regarding the other steadily. “I've heard news of my old woman.”
“Didn't know you 'ad one,” said Mr. Wotton calmly. “Wot's she done?”
“She left me,” said Mr. Davis, solemnly—“she left me thirty-five years ago. ”

“ Old Sam looked at 'em very stern for a moment, then he beckoned 'em to foller 'im, and, stopping at a little public-'ouse, he went in and ordered a pint o' bitter.
“'And give them two pore fellers a crust o' bread and cheese and 'arf-a-pint of four ale each,' he ses to the barmaid.
“Ginger and Peter looked at each other, but they was so hungry they didn't say a word; they just stood waiting.
“'Put that inside you my pore fellers,' ses Sam, with a oily smile. 'I can't bear to see people suffering for want o' food,' he ses to the barmaid, as he chucked down a sovereign on the counter. ”

“ Many and many's the pint we've 'ad together, turn and turn-about, and the on'y time we ever 'ad a cross word was when somebody hid his clay pipe in my beer and 'e was foolish enough to think I'd done it.
“He 'ad a nice little cottage, 'e told me about, near Hull, and 'is wife's father, a man of pretty near seventy, lived with 'em. Well-off the old man was, and, as she was his only daughter, they looked to 'ave all his money when he'd gorn. Their only fear was that 'e might marry agin, and, judging from wot 'e used to tell me about the old man, I thought it more than likely. ”

“ I wasn't going to suffer for him.
“'Ow long my missis walked up and down there I don't know. It seemed ages to me; but at last I 'eard footsteps and voices, and Bob and the cook and the other two chaps wot we 'ad met at the music'all came along and stood grinning in at the window.
“'Somebody's locked us in,' I ses. 'Go and fetch Cap'n Tarbell.'
“'Cap'n Tarbell?' ses the cook. 'You don't want to see 'im. Why, he's the last man in the world you ought to want to see! ”

“ Wot a pity men ain't like that with beer. I wish as 'ow Bill Chambers and Henery Walker and a few more 'ad been 'ere just now.'
“Mr. Bunnett agreed with 'im, and said wot a pity it was everybody 'adn't got Bob Pretty's commonsense and good feeling.
“'It ain't that,' ses Bob, shaking his 'ead at him; 'it ain't to my credit. I dessay if Sam Jones and Peter Gubbins, and Charlie Stubbs and Dicky Weed 'ad been brought up the same as I was they'd 'ave been a lot better than wot I am.'
“He bid Mr. Bunnett good-bye becos 'e said he'd got to get back to 'is work, and Mr. ”

“ I'm a pore, hard-working man, and my character's all I've got.'
“'You're poorer than you thought you was then,' says Mr. Bunnett. 'I wish you good arternoon.'
“'Good arternoon, sir,' ses Bob, very humble. 'I'm afraid some on 'em 'ave been telling lies about me, and I didn't think I'd got a enemy in the world. Come on, Joseph. Come on, old pal. We ain't wanted here.'
“He shook 'is 'ead with sorrow, and made a little sucking noise between 'is teeth, and afore you could wink, his dog 'ad laid hold of the old gen'leman's leg and kep' quiet waiting orders. ”

“ Wotton smiled feebly, and after going carefully through his pockets shook his head and followed his friend outside.
“I wonder whether she'll be pleased?” he remarked, as they walked slowly along. “She might be—women are funny creatures—so faithful. I knew one whose husband used to knock 'er about dreadful, and after he died she was so true to his memory she wouldn't marry again.”
Mr. Davis grunted, and, with a longing eye at the omnibuses passing over London Bridge, asked a policeman the distance to Clapham. ”

“ Why, a child could rob you. It's 'ard enough as it is for a pore man like me to 'ave to keep a couple o' hulking sailormen, but I'm not going to give you money to chuck away on lodgers. No more sleeping on the floor for me! Now I don't want none o' your langwidge, and I don't want you follering me like a couple o' cats arter a meat-barrer. I shall be 'aving a cup o' tea at Brown's coffee-shop by and by, and if you're there at five sharp I'll see wot I can do for you. ”

“ A little start attested his surprise, and, to his great annoyance, upset a couple of tablespoonfuls of the precious liquid.
“Some people waste all their kindness on dumb animals,” he remarked, after the landlord had withdrawn from his offended vision, “but I was never a believer in it. I mind some time ago when a gen'lemen from Lunnon wot 'ad more money than sense offered a prize for kindness to animals. I was the only one that didn't try for to win it.
“Mr. Bunnett 'is name was, and 'e come down and took Farmer Hall's 'ouse for the summer. Over sixty 'e was, and old enough to know better. ”

“ Gibbs showed them only too plainly where they were drifting.
“You'll 'ave to get a bed this side o' the river somewhere,” said Mr. Brown, slowly. “Coffee-shop or something; and a smart, active man wot keeps his eyes open can always pick up a little money.”
Mr. Gibbs laughed.
“And mind,” said Mr. Kidd, furiously, in reply to the laugh, “anything we lend you is to be paid back out of your half when you get it. And, wot's more, you don't get a ha'penny till you've come into a barber's shop and 'ad them whiskers off. We don't want no accidents.” ”

“ The only thing is to get married as quick as I can; then she can't help 'erself.'
“'It wouldn't prevent the other one making a fuss, though,' I ses.
“'No,' he ses, very thoughtfully, 'it wouldn't. I shall 'ave to do something there, but wot, I don't know.'
“He climbed on board like a man with a load on his mind, and arter a look at the sky went below and forgot both 'is troubles in sleep.
“Mrs. Plimmer came down to the wharf every time the ship was up, arter that. Sometimes she'd spend the evening aboard, and sometimes they'd go off and spend it somewhere else. ”

“ If I 'ad only let 'er go I should ha' saved myself a lot o' trouble, and the man wot deserved it would ha' got it. Instead o' that I told 'er about the music-'all, and arter carrying on like a silly gal o' seventeen and saying she couldn't think of it, she gave way and said she'd go with me to find 'im. I was all right so far as clothes went as it happened. Mrs. Plimmer said once that I got more and more dressy every time she saw me, and my missis 'ad said the same thing only in a different way. I just took a peep through the wicket and saw that Joe 'ad taken up my dooty, and then we set off. ”

“ Wot can you expect when the watchman is sitting in a pub all the evening?'
“The cook said I ought to be 'ung, and a young ordinary seaman wot was standing beside 'im said he would sooner I was boiled. I believe they 'ad words about it, but I was feeling too upset to take much notice.
“'Looking miserable won't bring 'er back to life agin,' ses the skipper, looking up at me and shaking his 'ead. 'You'd better go down to my cabin and get yourself a drop o' whisky; there's a bottle on the table. You'll want all your wits about you when the police come. ”