'"However," said the old gentleman, "that's not the point. Tom! I want
you to marry the widow."
'"Me, Sir!" said Tom.
'"You," said the old gentleman.
'"Bless your reverend locks," said Tom (he had a few scattered
horse-hairs left)--"bless your reverend locks, she wouldn't have me."
And Tom sighed involuntarily, as he thought of the bar.
'"Wouldn't she?" said the old gentleman firmly.
'"No, no," said Tom; "there's somebody else in the wind. A tall man--a
confoundedly tall man--with black whiskers."
'"Tom," said the old gentleman; "she will never have him."
'"Won't she?" said Tom. "If you stood in the bar, old gentleman, you'd
tell another story." '"Pooh, pooh," said the old gentleman. "I know all
about that."
'"About what?" said Tom.
'"The kissing behind the door, and all that sort of thing, Tom," said
the old gentleman. And here he gave another impudent look, which made
Tom very wroth, because as you all know, gentlemen, to hear an old
fellow, who ought to know better, talking about these things, is very
unpleasant--nothing more so.
'"I know all about that, Tom," said the old gentleman. "I have seen it
done very often in my time, Tom, between more people than I should like
to mention to you; but it never came to anything after all."
'"You must have seen some queer things," said Tom, with an inquisitive
look.
'"You may say that, Tom," replied the old fellow, with a very
complicated wink. "I am the last of my family, Tom," said the old
gentleman, with a melancholy sigh.
'"Was it a large one?" inquired Tom Smart.
'"There were twelve of us, Tom," said the old gentleman; "fine,
straight-backed, handsome fellows as you'd wish to see. None of your
modern abortions--all with arms, and with a degree of polish, though
I say it that should not, which it would have done your heart good to
behold."
'"And what's become of the others, Sir?" asked Tom Smart--
'The old gentleman applied his elbow to his eye as he replied,
"Gone, Tom, gone. We had hard service, Tom, and they hadn't all my
constitution. They got rheumatic about the legs and arms, and went into
kitchens and other hospitals; and one of 'em, with long service and hard
usage, positively lost his senses--he got so crazy that he was obliged
to be burnt. Shocking thing that, Tom."
'"Dreadful!" said Tom Smart.
'The old fellow paused for a few minutes, apparently struggling with his
feelings of emotion, and then said--
'"However, Tom, I am wandering from the point. This tall man, Tom, is a
rascally adventurer. The moment he married the widow, he would sell
off all the furniture, and run away. What would be the consequence? She
would be deserted and reduced to ruin, and I should catch my death of
cold in some broker's shop."
'"Yes, but--"
'"Don't interrupt me," said the old gentleman. "Of you, Tom, I entertain
a very different opinion; for I well know that if you once settled
yourself in a public-house, you would never leave it, as long as there
was anything to drink within its walls."
'"I am very much obliged to you for your good opinion, Sir," said Tom
Smart.
'"Therefore," resumed the old gentleman, in a dictatorial tone, "you
shall have her, and he shall not."
'"What is to prevent it?" said Tom Smart eagerly.
'"This disclosure," replied the old gentleman; "he is already married."
'"How can I prove it?" said Tom, starting half out of bed.
'The old gentleman untucked his arm from his side, and having pointed to
one of the oaken presses, immediately replaced it, in its old position.
'"He little thinks," said the old gentleman, "that in the right-hand
pocket of a pair of trousers in that press, he has left a letter,
entreating him to return to his disconsolate wife, with six--mark me,
Tom--six babes, and all of them small ones."
'As the old gentleman solemnly uttered these words, his features grew
less and less distinct, and his figure more shadowy. A film came over
Tom Smart's eyes. The old man seemed gradually blending into the chair,
the damask waistcoat to resolve into a cushion, the red slippers to
shrink into little red cloth bags. The light faded gently away, and Tom
Smart fell back on his pillow, and dropped asleep.
'Morning aroused Tom from the lethargic slumber, into which he had
fallen on the disappearance of the old man. He sat up in bed, and for
some minutes vainly endeavoured to recall the events of the preceding
night. Suddenly they rushed upon him. He looked at the chair; it was a
fantastic and grim-looking piece of furniture, certainly, but it must
have been a remarkably ingenious and lively imagination, that could have
discovered any resemblance between it and an old man.
'"How are you, old boy?" said Tom. He was bolder in the daylight--most
men are.
'The chair remained motionless, and spoke not a word.
'"Miserable morning," said Tom. No. The chair would not be drawn into
conversation.
'"Which press did you point to?--you can tell me that," said Tom. Devil
a word, gentlemen, the chair would say.
'"It's not much trouble to open it, anyhow," said Tom, getting out of
bed very deliberately. He walked up to one of the presses. The key was
in the lock; he turned it, and opened the door. There was a pair of
trousers there. He put his hand into the pocket, and drew forth the
identical letter the old gentleman had described!
'"Queer sort of thing, this," said Tom Smart, looking first at the chair
and then at the press, and then at the letter, and then at the chair
again. "Very queer," said Tom. But, as there was nothing in either, to
lessen the queerness, he thought he might as well dress himself, and
settle the tall man's business at once--just to put him out of his
misery.
'Tom surveyed the rooms he passed through, on his way downstairs, with
the scrutinising eye of a landlord; thinking it not impossible, that
before long, they and their contents would be his property. The tall man
was standing in the snug little bar, with his hands behind him, quite at
home. He grinned vacantly at Tom. A casual observer might have supposed
he did it, only to show his white teeth; but Tom Smart thought that a
consciousness of triumph was passing through the place where the tall
man's mind would have been, if he had had any. Tom laughed in his face;
and summoned the landlady.
'"Good-morning ma'am," said Tom Smart, closing the door of the little
parlour as the widow entered.
'"Good-morning, Sir," said the widow. "What will you take for breakfast,
sir?"
'Tom was thinking how he should open the case, so he made no answer.
'"There's a very nice ham," said the widow, "and a beautiful cold larded
fowl. Shall I send 'em in, Sir?"
'These words roused Tom from his reflections. His admiration of the
widow increased as she spoke. Thoughtful creature! Comfortable provider!
'"Who is that gentleman in the bar, ma'am?" inquired Tom.
'"His name is Jinkins, Sir," said the widow, slightly blushing.
'"He's a tall man," said Tom.
'"He is a very fine man, Sir," replied the widow, "and a very nice
gentleman."
'"Ah!" said Tom.
'"Is there anything more you want, Sir?" inquired the widow, rather
puzzled by Tom's manner. '"Why, yes," said Tom. "My dear ma'am, will you
have the kindness to sit down for one moment?"
'The widow looked much amazed, but she sat down, and Tom sat down too,
close beside her. I don't know how it happened, gentlemen--indeed my
uncle used to tell me that Tom Smart said he didn't know how it happened
either--but somehow or other the palm of Tom's hand fell upon the back
of the widow's hand, and remained there while he spoke.
'"My dear ma'am," said Tom Smart--he had always a great notion of
committing the amiable--"my dear ma'am, you deserve a very excellent
husband--you do indeed."
'"Lor, Sir!" said the widow--as well she might; Tom's mode of commencing
the conversation being rather unusual, not to say startling; the fact of
his never having set eyes upon her before the previous night being taken
into consideration. "Lor, Sir!"
'"I scorn to flatter, my dear ma'am," said Tom Smart. "You deserve a
very admirable husband, and whoever he is, he'll be a very lucky man."
As Tom said this, his eye involuntarily wandered from the widow's face
to the comfort around him.
'The widow looked more puzzled than ever, and made an effort to rise.
Tom gently pressed her hand, as if to detain her, and she kept her seat.
Widows, gentlemen, are not usually timorous, as my uncle used to say.
'"I am sure I am very much obliged to you, Sir, for your good opinion,"
said the buxom landlady, half laughing; "and if ever I marry again--"
'"IF," said Tom Smart, looking very shrewdly out of the right-hand
corner of his left eye. "IF--" "Well," said the widow, laughing
outright this time, "WHEN I do, I hope I shall have as good a husband as
you describe."
'"Jinkins, to wit," said Tom.
'"Lor, sir!" exclaimed the widow.
'"Oh, don't tell me," said Tom, "I know him."
'"I am sure nobody who knows him, knows anything bad of him," said the
widow, bridling up at the mysterious air with which Tom had spoken.
'"Hem!" said Tom Smart.
'The widow began to think it was high time to cry, so she took out her
handkerchief, and inquired whether Tom wished to insult her, whether
he thought it like a gentleman to take away the character of another
gentleman behind his back, why, if he had got anything to say, he didn't
say it to the man, like a man, instead of terrifying a poor weak woman
in that way; and so forth.
'"I'll say it to him fast enough," said Tom, "only I want you to hear it
first."
'"What is it?" inquired the widow, looking intently in Tom's
countenance.
'"I'll astonish you," said Tom, putting his hand in his pocket.
'"If it is, that he wants money," said the widow, "I know that already,
and you needn't trouble yourself." '"Pooh, nonsense, that's nothing,"
said Tom Smart, "I want money. 'Tain't that."
'"Oh, dear, what can it be?" exclaimed the poor widow.
'"Don't be frightened," said Tom Smart. He slowly drew forth the letter,
and unfolded it. "You won't scream?" said Tom doubtfully.
'"No, no," replied the widow; "let me see it."
'"You won't go fainting away, or any of that nonsense?" said Tom.
'"No, no," returned the widow hastily.
'"And don't run out, and blow him up," said Tom; "because I'll do all
that for you. You had better not exert yourself."
'"Well, well," said the widow, "let me see it."
'"I will," replied Tom Smart; and, with these words, he placed the
letter in the widow's hand.
'Gentlemen, I have heard my uncle say, that Tom Smart said the widow's
lamentations when she heard the disclosure would have pierced a heart of
stone. Tom was certainly very tender-hearted, but they pierced his, to
the very core. The widow rocked herself to and fro, and wrung her hands.
'"Oh, the deception and villainy of the man!" said the widow.
'"Frightful, my dear ma'am; but compose yourself," said Tom Smart.
'"Oh, I can't compose myself," shrieked the widow. "I shall never find
anyone else I can love so much!"
'"Oh, yes you will, my dear soul," said Tom Smart, letting fall a shower
of the largest-sized tears, in pity for the widow's misfortunes. Tom
Smart, in the energy of his compassion, had put his arm round the
widow's waist; and the widow, in a passion of grief, had clasped Tom's
hand. She looked up in Tom's face, and smiled through her tears. Tom
looked down in hers, and smiled through his.
'I never could find out, gentlemen, whether Tom did or did not kiss the
widow at that particular moment. He used to tell my uncle he didn't, but
I have my doubts about it. Between ourselves, gentlemen, I rather think
he did.
'At all events, Tom kicked the very tall man out at the front door half
an hour later, and married the widow a month after. And he used to drive
about the country, with the clay-coloured gig with the red wheels, and
the vixenish mare with the fast pace, till he gave up business many
years afterwards, and went to France with his wife; and then the old
house was pulled down.'
'Will you allow me to ask you,' said the inquisitive old gentleman,
'what became of the chair?'
'Why,' replied the one-eyed bagman, 'it was observed to creak very
much on the day of the wedding; but Tom Smart couldn't say for certain
whether it was with pleasure or bodily infirmity. He rather thought it
was the latter, though, for it never spoke afterwards.'
'Everybody believed the story, didn't they?' said the dirty-faced man,
