Stephen Archer, and Other Tales Part 48

_Mat_. Mr. Watkins!--

_Wat_. I haven't the honour of the gentleman's acquaintance. I'm not Mr. Watkins. Am I now? (_to_ COL. G.). Ha! ha!--Let go, I say. I'm not the man. It's all a mistake, you see.

_Col. G._ In good time. I might make a worse. Watkins mayn't be your name, but Watkins is your nature.

_Wat_. d.a.m.n your insolence! Let me go, I tell you! (_Struggles threatening_.)

_Col. G._ Gently, gently, young man!--If I give your neckcloth a twist now--!

_Mat_. Yes, there _is_ a mistake--and a sad one for me! A wretch that would strike an old man! Indeed you are not what I took you for.

_Wat_. You hear the young woman! She says it's all a mistake.--My good girl, I'm sorry for the old gentleman; but he oughtn't to behave like a ruffian. Really, now, you know, a fellow can't stand that sort of thing! A downright a.s.sault! I'm sorry I struck him, though--devilish sorry! I'll pay the damage with pleasure. (_Puts his hand in his pocket_.)

_Mat_. (_turning away_) And not a gentleman! (_Kneels by_ THOMAS _and weeps_.)

_Tho._ (_feebly_.) Dunnot greight, Mattie, mo chylt. Aw'm o' reet. Let th' mon goo. What's _he_ to tho or mo?--By th' ma.s.s! aw'm strung enough to lick him yet (_trying to rise, but falling back_). Eigh!

eigh! mo owd boans 'ud rayther not. It's noan blame sure to an owd mon to fo' tired o' feightin!

_Mat_. (_taking' his head on her lap_). Father! father! forgive me!

I'm all yours.--I'll go home with you, and work for you till I drop. O father! how could I leave you for him? I don't care one bit for him now--I don't indeed. You'll forgive me--won't you, father? (_Sobs_.)

_Tho._ Aw wull, aw do, mo Mattie. Coom whoam--coom whoam.

_Mat_. Will mother forgive me, father?

_Tho._ Thi mother, chylt? Hoo's forgiven tho lung afoor--ivver so lung agoo, chylt! Thi mother may talk leawd, but her heart is as soft as parritch.--Thae knows it, Mattie.

_Wat_. All this is very interesting,--only you see it's the wrong man, and I can't say he enjoys it. Take your hand off my collar--will you?

I'm not the man, I tell you!

_Bill._ All I says is--it's the same swell as guv me the skid to find her. I'll kiss the book on that!

_Ger._ (_coming forward_). Mr. Waterfield, on your honour, do you know this girl?

_Wat_. Come! you ain't goin' to put me to my catechism!

_Ger._ You must allow appearances are against you.

_Wat_. d.a.m.n your appearances! What do I care?

_Ger._ If you will not answer my question, I must beg you to leave the place.

_Wat_. My own desire! Will you oblige me by ordering this bull-dog of yours to take his paws off me? What the devil is he keeping me here for?

_Col. G._ I've a great mind to give you in charge.

_Wat_. The old codger a.s.saulted me first.

_Col. G._ True; but the whole affair would come to light. That's what I would have. Miss Pearson, what am I to do with this man?

_Enter_ SUSAN _at the back door. Behind her,_ CONSTANCE _peeps in_.

_Mat_. Let him go.--Father! Father! _(Kisses him_.)

_Sus_. That can never be Mattie's gentleman, sure-ly! Hm! I don't think much of _him_. I knew he had ugly eyes! I told you so, Mattie!

I wouldn't break my heart for _him_--no, nor for twenty of him--I wouldn't! He looks like a drowned cat.

_Wat_. What the devil have _you_ got to do with it?

_Sus. Nothing_. You shut up.

_Wat_. Well, I'm d.a.m.ned if I know whether I'm on my head or my heels.

_Sus_. 'Tain't no count which.

_Bill_ (_aside to_ COL. G.). She's at the back door, Mr. William.

_Col. G._ Who is, Bill? Miss Lacordere?

_Bill._ Right you air!

COL. G. _hastens to the door_. CON. _peeps in and draws back_.

COL. G. _follows her._ WATERFIELD _approaches_ MATTIE.

_Wat_. Miss Pearson, if that's--

_Mat_. I don't know you--don't even know your name.

_Wat_. (_looking round_). You hear her say it! She don't know me!

_Mat_. Could you try and rise, father? I want to get out of this.

There's a lady here says I'm a thief!

_Tho._ Nea, that she connot say, Mattie! Thae cooms ov honest folk.

Aw'll geet oop direckly. (_Attempts to rise_.) Eigh! eigh! aw connot!

aw connot!

_Mrs. C._ If I have been unjust to you, Miss Pearson, I shall not fail to make amends.

_Sus_. It's time you did then, ma'am. You've murdered her, and all but murdered me. That's how your little bill stands.

_Ger._ (_to_ WAT.) Leave the place, Mr. Waterfield.

_Wat_. You shall answer for this, Gervaise.

_Ger._ Leave the study at once.

_Wat_. Tut! tut! I'll make it up to them. A bank note's a good plaster.