A Little World Part 25

After smoking a pipe or two, the churchwarden always left, declaring that he had got hold of the right end of the thread, and that he intended following up the clue, telling it mysteriously, and promising news by his next visit; for, being old and single, the vicar thought it no shame to play nightly at cribbage with his churchwarden, and in his company to smoke long clay pipes and drink whisky and water. But the only result of Mr Timson's clue-following was the getting of himself into a tangle, and, to the vicar's great disgust, he would seriously settle the offence upon a fresh head each time.

"I tell you what it is, Timson," he one day exclaimed, pettishly, after listening for some time to the rumbling of the churchwarden's mountain, and then being rewarded with no grand discovery, but a very mouse of an information,--"I tell you what it is, Timson, you are getting into your dotage."

"No, I ain't," said Timson, gruffly; for Mr Timson's life had two phases--as Mr Timson, tea-dealer, and Mr Timson, vicar's churchwarden.

In trade he metaphorically wore his ap.r.o.n fastened by a bra.s.s heart and a steel hook, and said, "Sir" to the world at large; while, as Mr Timson, the worthy old bachelor, who could have retired from business any day, and who smoked pipes and played cribbage at his own or the vicar's residence, he was another man, and as st.u.r.dy and independent as an Englishman need be. "No, I ain't," he said, gruffly. "I'm sure now as can be that it's old Purkis--a fat, canting, red-faced, hypocritical old sinner."

"Don't be so aggravating, Timson," said the vicar. "How can you accuse him!"

"Why what does he mean by always hanging about the boxes, and polish, polish, polis.h.i.+ng them till the steel-work grows quite thin?"

"That proves nothing," said the vicar.

"Don't it?" exclaimed the churchwarden. "It proves that he has always been hanging about, till the money tempted him, and he could not resist it."

"Nonsense!" said the vicar, crossly, as he broke a piece off his pipe.

"Why, the very last time you were here, you were quite sure that it was Pellet."

"Well, and so I'll be bound to say that it was," said Timson. "I was sure of it last week, only you would not have it that I was right."

"Of course not," said the vicar, "when you declared only two days before that it was the organ-boy, whom you had caught spending money. How much did he spend, by the by?"

"Well, only a halfpenny at a potato-can, certainly," said Timson; "but he must have been flush of money."

"Pis.h.!.+" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the vicar, contemptuously,--"nonsense!"

"Ah! you may say 'Pish,'" exclaimed Timson, angrily; "but it isn't nonsense. The money goes, don't it? and they're all in it, every man jack of 'em. It's a regular conspiracy."

"I never in all my experience met with a less consistent man than you are, Timson," said the vicar. "I believe you would accuse me as soon as look at me, and then give some one else into custody for the theft."

"No, I shouldn't," grumbled Mr Timson. "We should have found it all out by this time, only you will be so obstinate. I'd soon find it out if I had my way."

"I do wish you would have a little more charity in you, Timson,"

continued the vicar, taking up and dealing the cards. "I honestly believe that if it had not been for me, you would have made two or three homes wretched by accusing people of the theft."

"No business to steal poor-box money, then," said Mr Timson, through his nose, for his hands being occupied with his cards, his lips were tightly closed over the waxy end of his pipe. "It was Pellet, I'm sure."

"No more Pellet than it was Purkis," said the vicar. "I never knew a more quiet, respectable man."

"Nor a better organist, if he wouldn't be so long-winded," said Mr Timson, coolly.

"Nor a better organist," acquiesced the vicar. "Fifteen--six, and six are a dozen," he continued, throwing down his cards.

"Three, and one for his n.o.b," said Mr Timson, following the example of his host; "and that's what I should give him, Mr Gray, if I knew who it was."

"Humph!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the vicar, thoughtfully.

But in spite of his thoughtfulness he came no nearer to his point, and in the course of time the Rev. John Gray was distant, and then, in manner, apologetic, to all the church officials. He even went so far as to send the little asthmatical old razor-faced clerk a present, so as to set his own mind at rest for having judged him hastily. He had fresh locks placed upon the boxes--locks with cunningly-devised keys, which the maker a.s.sured him it was impossible to imitate; but a fortnight had not elapsed before the boxes were plundered again--the culprit apparently growing bolder with success.

The vicar grew more and more anxious. He was in dread now that the communion-plate might be taken, and, lest a raid should be made upon it, he watched it himself to and from the churchwarden's house.

At times, too, Mr Gray would feel almost disposed to take his friend's advice, and call in the aid of the police; but even then he did not feel certain of success, and he shrank from such stringent measures on account of the publicity they would entail; besides, he wished to discover the culprit himself, and take him to task, for he considered that his own conscience would be sufficient punishment so soon as he was detected.

In Duplex Street, the vicar's words were well taken into consideration, and the whole affair was canva.s.sed with animation, Tim Ruggles the while listening attentively, and giving his opinion when asked, otherwise perfectly silent, until, to use his own words, "he was set going."

"I like clergymen sometimes," said Tim, "and sometimes I don't; but this vicar of ours seems a man worth knowing. Mrs Ruggles says, sir, it's a pleasure to have anything to do for him, and she's a great judge of character, sir. But there are some parsons I never could like, for they're as easy and plausible as country solicitors, and that's saying a great deal. But really it does seem a wonder that this little matter is not found out I'll talk to Mrs Ruggles about it again to-night-- wonderful woman--I like to hear her opinion; full of point and keenness.

Authority for saying so," muttered Tim, beneath his breath, for he had been taking himself to task for his frequent usage of this his favourite expression.

Conversation was here stayed by a terrible vocal explosion up-stairs, accompanied by cries for mother, the cause being that a juvenile member of the Pellet family had choked himself with an angular fragment of pudding, given to him by Mrs Jared to keep him out of mischief--a cold heavy pudding of a most economical texture, frequently made in Jared's establishment, and called by him "extinguisher" from its wondrous power of putting out appet.i.te to the last faint spark.

A due amount of patting and shaking sufficed to place the little sufferer in his normal state; and mother and father once more descended, to find Tim Ruggles ready for starting homeward, after exhibiting a newly-made pair of trousers--his first--upon the young gentleman for whom they were intended.

"Yes, sir," said Tim, taking up, in a most unexpected manner, the princ.i.p.al subject of the evening's conversation, "I'll have a long talk to Mrs Ruggles about it; and if I might ask it as a favour of you and Mrs Pellet, sir, please don't send anything any more for little Pine.

I'm so much obliged, and thank you kindly; but Mrs Ruggles, sir, is a little bit particular upon some points, and just perhaps the least touch proud. I know you won't be offended with me for telling you."

Mrs Jared, who had on several occasions sent little delicacies that she thought the child might fancy--poor-people's delicacies--promised, and Tim left; and probably from the sharp look-out kept by Mrs Ruggles after the conversation she had with her husband, for quite a month the vicar enjoyed peace of mind, from a feeling that the poor-box had not been disturbed.

"And a good job, too," said Mr Timson, one evening; "for I'm quite sick of hearing sermons and texts about pieces of money--'render unto Caesar,' or 'current money of the merchant,' or Achan's covetousness, or the Judas pieces of silver. You know they only did harm, acting like charity-sermons, and making people get money ready, expecting to see a plate held at the door, and then, only naturally, dropping it into the poor-box, so as to give more plunder to the thief, who has been laughing at you all the time."

"For shame, Timson!" said the old clergyman, sternly. "Don't you think that even thieves have consciences?"

"Humph! well, I don't know," said Timson, "perhaps they have, but they don't keep them from stealing. But I thought you said you would keep the subject out of your sermons?"

The vicar did not reply, but his eyes twinkled, and a dry little crease or two appeared at the corners of his mouth.

Volume 2, Chapter VI.

MRS JARED'S MANAGEMENT.

No doubt, if little Patty had been more highly educated, more refined, and had no more engrossing occupations than reading and paying visits, she too would have worn a Mariana-like aspect, and sighed more frequently. But though she often wept in secret, hers was so busy a life that she had but little time to mourn, and though she sighed to herself, and suffered too most keenly, her cheeks somehow would not grow pale or less sound, and the sorrow was hidden away deeply in her heart.

Mrs Jared knew a great deal, and kept finding out more and more; but the subject was tabooed, and though her tender heart yearned to condole with Patty and try to comfort her, yet long talks with Jared had schooled her to be silent, and poor Patty had no comforter save Janet, and even with her she refrained from fully opening her heart.

"Poor girl! I know she feels it keenly," said Mrs Jared to her husband on one occasion.

"Not she," said Jared. "It must be nearly forgotten by this time."

"Did I forget you, years ago?" said Mrs Jared, severely.

"Too good a memory, my dear," said Jared, smiling.

"Then don't talk such nonsense," said his wife. "What ideas you men do have of women's hearts, just because now and then you meet with some silly, flighty, coquettish thing, not without a heart, certainly, but with one that is worthless. Do you suppose that all girls' hearts are counterfeit coin?"

"Not I!" said Jared; "but it won't do. It is just as I thought at the time, and it always is the case with those red-hot sanguine fellows.

All very well at first, but they cool down gradually, and then it's all over. You see we hear nothing at all of him now."

"I'm afraid he's ill," said Mrs Jared; "there must be something wrong."

"Wrong! well, yes, I suppose so," said Jared; "if it's wrong to get rich, it was wrong of him to talk to our poor girl in the way he did; and it's wrong of her to dream of it, if she still does, and it was wrong of you to expect that anything would ever come of it but sorrow, and it was wrong--"