Ten Thousand a-Year Volume I Part 18

"Why--why--where's all the money to come from, sir?" exclaimed t.i.tmouse, aghast.

"Ah! that is indeed a fearful question,"--replied Gammon, with a very serious air; "but at my request, our firm has agreed to make the necessary advances; and also (for _I_ could not bear the sight of your distress, Mr. t.i.tmouse!) to supply your necessities liberally in the mean time, as I was saying."

"Won't you take another gla.s.s of wine, Mr. Gammon?" suddenly inquired t.i.tmouse, with a confident air.

"With all my heart, Mr. t.i.tmouse! I'm delighted that you approve of it.

I paid enough for it, I can warrant you."

"Cuss me if ever I tasted such wine! Uncommon! Come--no heel-taps, Mr.

Gammon--here goes--let's drink--success to the affair!"

"With all my heart, my dear sir--with all my heart. Success to the thing--amen!" and Gammon drained his gla.s.s; so did t.i.tmouse. "Ah! Mr.

t.i.tmouse, you'll soon have wine enough to float a frigate--and indeed what not--with ten thousand a-year?"

"And all the back-rents, you know--ha, ha!"

"Yes--to be sure!--the back-rents! The sweetest estate that is to be found in all Yorks.h.i.+re! Gracious, Mr. t.i.tmouse!" continued Gammon, with an excited air--"What may you not do? Go where you like--do what you like--get into Parliament--marry some lovely woman of high rank!"

"Lord, Mr. Gammon!--you a'n't dreaming? Nor I? But now, in course, _you_ must be paid handsome for your trouble!--Only say how much--Name your sum! What you please! You only get me all you've said--and I'll"----

"For my part, I wish to rely entirely on your mere word of honor.

Between gentlemen, you know--my dear sir"----

"You only try me, sir."

"But you see, Mr. Quirk's getting old, and naturally is anxious to provide for those whom he will leave behind him--and so Mr. Snap agreed with him--two to one against me, Mr. t.i.tmouse--of course they carried the day--two to one."

"Never mind that!--only say the figure, sir!" cried t.i.tmouse, eagerly.

"A single year's income, only--ten thousand pounds will hardly"----

"Ten thousand pounds! By jingo, but that _is_ a slice out of the cake!

Oh, Lord!" quoth t.i.tmouse, looking aghast.

"A mere crumb, my dear sir!--a trifle! Why, _we_ are going to give _you_ that sum at least every year--and indeed it was suggested to our firm, that unless you gave us at least a sum of twenty-five thousand pounds--in fact, we were recommended to look out for some other heir."

"Oh dear! oh Mr. Gammon," cried t.i.tmouse, hastily--"it's not to be thought of, sir."

"So I said; and as for throwing it up--to be sure we shall have ourselves to borrow large sums to carry on the war--and unless we have your bond for at least ten thousand pounds, we cannot raise a farthing."

"Well--curse me, if you sha'n't do what you like!--Give me your hand, and do what you like, Mr. Gammon!"

"Thank you, Mr. t.i.tmouse! How I like a gla.s.s of wine with a friend in this quiet way!--you'll always find me rejoiced to show"----

"Your hand! By George--Didn't I take a liking to you from the first? But to speak my mind a bit--as for Mr. Quirk--excuse me--but he's a cur--cur--cur--mudg--mudg--mudg--eon--hem!"

"Hope you've not been so imprudent, my dear t.i.tmouse," threw in Mr.

Gammon, rather anxiously, "as to borrow money--eh?"

"Devil knows, and devil cares! No stamp, I know--bang up to the mark"--here he winked an eye, and put his finger to his nose--"wide awake--Huck--uck--uck--uck! how his name sti--sticks. Your hand, Mr.

Gammon--here--this, this way--what are you bobbing your head about for?

Ah, ha!--The floor--'pon my life!--how funny--it's like being at sea--up, down--oh dear!"--he clapped his hand to his head.

[Pythagoras has finely observed, that a man is not to be considered dead drunk till he lies on the floor, and stretches out his arms and legs to prevent his going lower.]

See-saw, see-saw, up and down, up and down, went everything about him.

Now he felt sinking through the floor, then gently rising towards the ceiling. Mr. Gammon seemed getting into a mist, and waving about the candles in it. Mr. t.i.tmouse's head swam; his chair seemed to be resting on the waves of the sea.

"I'm afraid the room's rather close, Mr. t.i.tmouse," hastily observed Gammon, perceiving from t.i.tmouse's sudden paleness and silence, but too evident symptoms that his powerful intellect was for a while paralyzed.

Gammon started to the window and opened it. Paler, however, and paler became t.i.tmouse. Gammon's game was up much sooner than he had calculated on.

"Mrs. Brown! Mrs. Brown!" he called out, opening the sitting-room door--"order a coach instantly, and tell Tomkins"--that was the inn porter--"to get his son ready to go home with this gentleman--he's not very well." He was quickly obeyed. It was, in truth, "_all up_" with t.i.tmouse--at least for a while.

As soon as Gammon had thus got rid of his distinguished guest, he ordered the table to be cleared of the gla.s.ses, and tea to be ready within half an hour. He then walked out to enjoy the cool evening; on returning, sat pleasantly sipping his tea, now and then dipping into the edifying columns of the _Sunday Flash_, but oftener ruminating upon his recent conversation with t.i.tmouse, and speculating upon certain possible results to himself personally; and a little after eleven o'clock, that good man, at peace with all the world--calm and serene--retired to repose. He had that night rather a singular dream; it was of a snake encircling a monkey, as if in gentle and playful embrace.

Suddenly tightening its folds, a crackling sound was heard; the writhing coils were then slowly unwound--and, with a shudder, he beheld the monster licking over the motionless figure, till it was covered with a viscid slime. Then the serpent began to devour his prey; and, when gorged and helpless, behold, it was immediately fallen upon by two other snakes. To his disturbed fancy, there was a dim resemblance between their heads and those of Quirk and Snap--they all three became intertwisted together--and writhed and struggled till they fell over the edge of a dark and frightful precipice--he woke--thank G.o.d! it was only a dream.

CHAPTER V.

When, after his return from Mr. Gammon's chambers, at Thavies' Inn, t.i.tmouse woke at an early hour in the morning, he was laboring under the ordinary effects of unaccustomed inebriety. His lips were perfectly parched; his tongue clave to the roof of his mouth; there was a horrid weight pressing on his aching eyes, and upon his throbbing head. His pillow seemed undulating beneath him, and everything swimming around him; but when, to crown the whole, he was roused from a momentary nap by the insupportable--the loathed importunities of Mrs. Squallop, that he would just sit up and partake of three thick rounds of hot b.u.t.tered toast, and a great basin of smoking tea, which would do him _so_ much good, and settle his stomach--at all events, if he'd only have a thimbleful of gin in it--poor t.i.tmouse was fairly overcome!... He lay in bed all that day, during which he underwent very severe sufferings; and it was not till towards night that he began to have anything like a distinct recollection of the events of the evening which he had spent with Mr. Gammon; who, by the way, had sent one of the clerks, during the afternoon, to inquire after him. He did not get out of bed on the Tuesday till past twelve o'clock, when, in a very rickety condition, he made his appearance at the shop of Messrs. Tag-rag and Co.; on approaching which he felt a sudden faintness, arising from mingled apprehension and disgust.

"What are you doing here, sir?--You're no longer in my employment, sir,"

exclaimed Tag-rag, attempting to speak calmly, as he hurried down the shop, white with rage, to meet t.i.tmouse, and planted himself right in the way of his languid and pallid shopman.

"Sir!"--faintly exclaimed t.i.tmouse, with his hat in his hand.

"Very much obliged, sir--very! by the offer of your valuable services,"

said Tag-rag. "But--_that's_ the way out again, sir--that!--there!--good-morning, sir--good-morning, sir!--that's the way out"--and he egged on t.i.tmouse, till he had got him fairly into the street--with infinite difficulty restraining himself from giving the extruded sinner a parting kick! t.i.tmouse stood for a moment before the door, trembling and aghast, looking in a bewildered manner at the shop: but Tag-rag again making his appearance, t.i.tmouse slowly walked away and returned to his lodgings. Oh that Mr. Gammon had witnessed the scene--thought he--and so have been satisfied that it had been Tag-rag who had put an end to his service, not he himself who had quitted it!

The next day, about the same hour, Mr. Gammon made his appearance at the establishment from which t.i.tmouse had been expelled so summarily, and inquired for Mr. Tag-rag, who presently presented himself--and recognizing Mr. Gammon, whose presence naturally suggested the previous day's transaction with t.i.tmouse, changed color a little.

"What did you please to want, sir?" inquired Mr. Tag-rag, with a would-be resolute air, twirling round his watch-key with some energy.

"Only a few minutes' conversation, sir, if you please," said Mr. Gammon, with such a significant manner as a little disturbed Mr. Tag-rag; who, with an ill-supported sneer, bowed very low, and led the way to his own little room. Having closed the door, he, with an exceedingly civil air, begged Mr. Gammon to be seated; and then occupied the chair opposite to him, and awaited the issue with ill-disguised anxiety.

"I am _very_ sorry, Mr. Tag-rag," commenced Gammon, in his usual elegant and feeling manner, "that any misunderstanding should have arisen between you and Mr. t.i.tmouse!"

"You're a lawyer, sir, I suppose?" Mr. Gammon bowed. "Then you must know, sir, that there are always two sides to a quarrel," said Mr.

Tag-rag, anxiously.

"Yes--you are right, Mr. Tag-rag; and, having already heard Mr.

t.i.tmouse's version, may I be favored with _your_ account of your reasons for discharging him? For he tells us that yesterday you dismissed him suddenly from your employment, without giving him any warn"----

"So I did, sir; and what of that?" inquired Tag-rag, tossing his head with a sudden air of defiance. "Things are come to a pretty pa.s.s indeed, when a man at the head of such an establishment as mine, can't dismiss a drunken, idle, impertinent--abusive vagabond." Here Mr. Gammon somewhat significantly took out his tablets--as if to note down the language of his companion.