The Soldier's Wife — page 129: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

110 turned upon the barber in anxious expectation of the responses he would give to the charges levelled against him. He had listened to them with a mingled superciliousness and ellrontery, as if the subject matter of discourse was either beneath his notice, or else involving points so eusy of refutation, that he could afford to take his time over the affair. Even Mr. Rosser, al- though a perfect stranger in Oskleigh, seemed to be interested in the proceeding, and listened with silent attention,—pricking up his ears, however, each time a fresh accuser spoke out. But ere Mr, Bates condescended to open his lips, another visitor entered the parlor—and this was Mr. Davis, Lucy’s father. “Good evening, sir,” said Bushell, officiously bustling to placea chair for the bailiff. ‘Come to take your usual evening’s whiff along with us, sir?” “Mr. Davis,” observed Sheepwash, “has been a oreat acquisition among us for the last two or three months; and when I say an aequisi- tion, [ mean a wallyable addition—leastways, a gentleman whose company is much esteem- ed. Your health, Mr. Davis.” “ Ah,” said the bailiff, in bitter accents, “ one 1s sometimes glad to drop in when there’s a little pleasant society. Bushell, give me some hot brandy-and-water and a pipe.” “Poor tellow!” whispered the tailor to Mr. Beagley: “he’s terribly hen-pecked at home. Ah! it was asad day for Davis when he mar- ried Colyecinth’s daughter.” “And I say, Bushell—while you're about it, Bushell,” vociferated Mr. Whippersnapper, “order me another sixpenn’orth, Bushell—gin, Bushell—hot, Bushell—with a squeeze of lemon, Bushell—and plenty of sugar, Bushell— and I say, Bushell—order me another screw at the same time, Bushell—and a clean clay, with a sealing-wax at the top, Bushell—there’s a good tellow, Bushell.” The bailiff’s and the haberdasher’s orders were soon executed; and then there was a brief pause—during which Mr. Sheepwash ap- peared to be collecting matter for a fresh speech. “Oh, Mr. Bates! I see you here, do 1?” sud- denly exclaimed Mr. Davis, glancing around the room when he had lighted his pipe. “ Yes—lI’ve just dropped in to take my four penn’orth,” responded the barber. “ The fact 18, | thought there had been enough ill-will to- wards me for the last few years in the village; and | wanted to see whether these gentlemen which call themselves Christians and is regular at Church on Sundays, mean to keep up their spite in respect to your humble servant forever. And now that | come in a friendly way amongst them, they trump up no end of lies about me—as if th» character of Obadiah Bates was a football to Ll» kicked about in the dirt from one to another. However, as they’ve all made their charges, (ll answer them in a lump.” “Bravo, Bates—well done, Bates—go it, Bates—that’s what I call plucky, Bates!” ex- claimed Mr. Whippersnapper. “ You've come out strong, Bates—answer all their charges, Bates—and put yourself right, Bates—tire away, Bates—that’s your sort,, Bates.” * Well, then, gentlemen,” resumed the barber, THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. ¥., a amazed i fire of compliments om the part who had hitherto seemed an enemy, “I will answer these charges in a lump.” “Stop!” ejaculated Davis. “ Perhaps yoa will answer mine, Mr. Bates, at the same time along with the lump,” he added, in tones bit terly sarcastic. “I want to know, Mr, Bates, how it is that you have spread abroad reports that Mrs. Davis has run into debt with milli- ners and dressmakers at Middleton, and that they had written to ner to threaten to ad.- dress themselves to me unless she paid them their accounts? I want to know that, Mr, Bates! But perhaps | should do well to be more explicit still—so that you shan’t have a loophole of escape. This ia learn for the first time that such letters have rin. sehat to iny wife from the Middleton tradesmen. It came to my knowledge in an indirect way, and [ taxed her with it. She then confessed that she had received such letters, but that she had burnt them all, and not mentioned the thing to a soul. Now then, | want to know how the business could possibly have got abroad #?” “Oh! [ heard all about it at Middleton, when [ was over there t?other day,” exclaimed Bates in an off-hand manner: “the tradesmen nade no secret of it.” “That's false!” exclaimed Davis. “I my- self have been this day to Middleton to settle all these aecounts, and I know for a fact the tradesmen did not speak of it—but showed the greatest forbearance and delicacy. But my wite told me she had reason to believe that some of those letters she received had been opened while passing through the post-office. And the Middleton tradesmen told me this very day that some of the letters they received in reply from my wife, had been tampered with. Now, Mr. Bates, when | tind that you spread those reports abroad about Mrs. Davis's extravagance, and considering that you hold the post-otfice here, and have been in trouble more than once about letters here,--I have sood reason to accuse you of having played very dirty tricks about the correspondence between Mrs. Davis and the Middleton trades- men.” “T deny it, sir!” exclaimed the barber: “and I defy anybody to say that black’s the white of my eye.” “Hullo, Bates—that won’t do, Bates!” eried Mr. Whippersnapper, deprecatingly. “Things are looking bad, Bates—precious bad, Bates— they've took a turn against you, Bates—you don’t come up to the scratch, Bates—you’re in a corner, Bates—it won’t do, Bates—I ean tell you, Bates.” “Gentlemen,” resumed Davis, “it’s a very sad thing to have to talk in a public room of one’s domestie affairs: but Lam not such a fool las to suppose that my unhappiness at home is any secret here. In fact,” he added bitterly, “T don’t want it to be. I married a young wife—and I have been teres punished for it. But I repeat that Mr. Bates has violated cor- respondence ; and I appeal to you, gentlemen, whether Obadiah Bates is a fit and proper per son to hold the post-office aay longer?” “J propose,” said Mr. Sheepwash, “ GEomicbook