Hocken and Hunken Part 44

"O--oh!" gasped Dinah as she took enlightenment. . . . "But two hundred pounds is a terrible sum to spend in findin' out which o' two men is the bigger fool. Why not begin wi' the one you like best, and find out first if he's foolish enough to suit?"

"Because," answered Mrs Bosenna, turning meditative eyes again upon the fire, "I don't happen to know which I like best."

"Then you can't be in love," declared foolish Dinah.

"Sensible women ain't; not until afterwards. . . . Now, which would you advise me to marry?"

"Captain Hunken." Dinah's answer was prompt. "He's that curt. I like a man to be curt; he makes it so hard for 'ee to say no. Besides which, as you might say, that parrot of his did break the ice in a manner of speakin'."

"Dinah, I'm ashamed of you."

"Well, mistress, natur' is natur': and we knows what we can't help knowin'."

"That's true," Mrs Bosenna agreed. It was her turn to sigh.

"Cap'n Hunken's the man," repeated Dinah. She nodded her head on it and paused. "Though, if you ask my opinion, Cap'n Hocken 'd make the better husband."

"It's difficult."

"Ay. . . . For my part I don't know what you want with a husband at all."

"Nor I," said Mrs Bosenna, still gazing into the fire.

"At the best 'tis a risk."

Mrs Bosenna sighed again. "If it weren't, where'd be the fun?"

CHAPTER XX.

A NEWSPAPER PARAGRAPH.

Mr Rogers enjoyed his newspaper. To speak more accurately, he enjoyed several: and one of Fancy's duties--by no means the least pleasant or the least onerous--was to read to him daily the main contents of 'The Western Morning News,' 'The Western Daily Mercury,' and 'The s.h.i.+pping Gazette': and on Thursdays from cover to cover--at a special afternoon _seance_--'The Troy Herald,' with its weekly bulletin of more local news.

"What's the items this week?" asked Mr Rogers, puffing at a freshly lit pipe and settling himself down to listen.

Fancy opened the paper at its middle sheet, folded it back and scanned it.

"Here we are. 'If you want corsets, go to--' no, that's an advertis.e.m.e.nt. 'Troy Christian Endeavour. Under the auspices of the above-named flouris.h.i.+ng society--'"

"Skip the Christian Endeavour."

"Very well. The next is 'Wesley Guild. A goodly company met this week to hear the Rev. J. Bates Handc.o.c.k on "Gambling: its Cause and Cure."

The reverend gentleman is always a favourite at Troy--'"

"He's none of mine, anyway. Skip the Wesley Guild."

"Right-o! 'On Wednesday last, in spite of counter attractions, much interest was testified by those who a.s.sembled in the Inst.i.tute Hall to hear Mr Trudgeon, lately returned from the United States, on the Great Canyon of Colorado, ill.u.s.trated with lantern slides. The lecturer in a genial manner, after personally conducting his audience across the Great Continent--'"

"d.a.m.n," said Mr Rogers. "Get on to the drunks. Ain't there any?"

"Seems not. How will this do?"

'Report says that Monday's Agricultural Demonstration --a full report of which will be found in another column--was not without its comic relief, beloved of dramatists. On dit that--'"

"On what?"

"Dit. Misprint, perhaps."

'On dit that two highly respected sons of the brine, recently settled in our midst, and one of whom has recently been elected to teach our young ideas how to shoot, were so fired with emulation by the ploughing in Cla.s.s C as to challenge one another then and there to a trial of prowess, much to the entertainment of our agricultural friends.

The stakes were for a considerable amount, and the two heroes who had elected to plough something more solid than the waves, quickly found themselves the observed of all observers. Rumour, that lying jade, hints at a lady in the case.

Certain it is that the pair, whose names have of late been syn--been sy-nonymous--with,'--

"--O Lor'! here's a heap of it, master!"

"Skip the long syllables an' get on."

"H'm--m--"

'--acquitted themselves to the astonishment of the judges, and of everybody else in the field.

Search out the lady, as our Gallic neighbours say.'

--"Where's Gallic?"

"Don't know. Ask Shake Benny. He supplies the Troy Notes to the 'Herald.'"

"Oh, does he?"

"Yes: he gets his gossip off Philp; and dresses it up. That's how it's done. Philp has a nose like a ferret's: but he was unfort'nit in his education. You may trust Philp to get at the facts--leastways you can trust him for gossip: but he can't dress anything up. . . . Why, what's the matter with the child?"

Fancy Tabb never laughed: and this was the queerer because she had a sense of humour beyond her years. Though by no means a gleeful child she could express glee naturally enough: but a joke merely affected her with silent convulsive twitchings, as though the risible faculties struggled somewhere within her but could not bring the laugh to birth.

These spasms of mirth, whatever had provoked them, were cut short--and her explanation too--by a heavy footstep on the stairs.

"Cap'n Hunken!" she announced, and went to open the door. "Most like he wants to talk business with you same as Cap'n Hocken did this morning, and I'd better make myself scarce. That's the silly way they've taken to behave, 'stead of callin' together."

"Ay, you're sharp, missy," said her master. "But 'twon't be the same arrand this time, as it happens: so you're wrong for once."

Fancy, if she heard, did not answer, for 'Bias by this time had reached the landing without. She opened to him. "Good afternoon, sir."

"Afternoon, missy. I saw your father in the shop, and he told me to walk up. Mr Rogers disengaged?"

"Ay, Cap'n--walk in, walk in!" said Mr Rogers from his chair.

What is it to-day? Business? or just a pipe and a chat?"

"Well, it's business," allowed 'Bias with a glance at the girl.

"But I'll light a pipe over it, if you don't mind."