第 23 页

'If you haven't got anything newer than that to say,' growled Mr

Codlin, glancing at the clock, 'you'd better let us fix our minds upon

the supper, and not disturb us.'

'Hear me out, won't you?' retorted his friend. 'It's very plain to me,

besides, that they're not used to this way of life. Don't tell me that

that handsome child has been in the habit of prowling about as she's

done these last two or three days. I know better.'

'Well, who DOES tell you she has?' growled Mr Codlin, again glancing at

the clock and from it to the cauldron, 'can't you think of anything

more suitable to present circumstances than saying things and then

contradicting 'em?'

'I wish somebody would give you your supper,' returned Short, 'for

there'll be no peace till you've got it. Have you seen how anxious the

old man is to get on--always wanting to be furder away--furder away.

Have you seen that?'

'Ah! what then?' muttered Thomas Codlin.

'This, then,' said Short. 'He has given his friends the slip. Mind

what I say--he has given his friends the slip, and persuaded this

delicate young creetur all along of her fondness for him to be his

guide and travelling companion--where to, he knows no more than the man

in the moon. Now I'm not a going to stand that.'

'YOU'RE not a going to stand that!' cried Mr Codlin, glancing at the

clock again and pulling his hair with both hands in a kind of frenzy,

but whether occasioned by his companion's observation or the tardy pace

of Time, it was difficult to determine. 'Here's a world to live in!'

'I,' repeated Short emphatically and slowly, 'am not a-going to stand

it. I am not a-going to see this fair young child a falling into bad

hands, and getting among people that she's no more fit for, than they

are to get among angels as their ordinary chums. Therefore when they

dewelope an intention of parting company from us, I shall take measures

for detaining of 'em, and restoring 'em to their friends, who I dare

say have had their disconsolation pasted up on every wall in London by

this time.'

'Short,' said Mr Codlin, who with his head upon his hands, and his

elbows on his knees, had been shaking himself impatiently from side to

side up to this point and occasionally stamping on the ground, but who

now looked up with eager eyes; 'it's possible that there may be

uncommon good sense in what you've said. If there is, and there should

be a reward, Short, remember that we're partners in everything!'

His companion had only time to nod a brief assent to this position, for

the child awoke at the instant. They had drawn close together during

the previous whispering, and now hastily separated and were rather

awkwardly endeavouring to exchange some casual remarks in their usual

tone, when strange footsteps were heard without, and fresh company

entered.

These were no other than four very dismal dogs, who came pattering in

one after the other, headed by an old bandy dog of particularly

mournful aspect, who, stopping when the last of his followers had got

as far as the door, erected himself upon his hind legs and looked round

at his companions, who immediately stood upon their hind legs, in a

grave and melancholy row. Nor was this the only remarkable

circumstance about these dogs, for each of them wore a kind of little

coat of some gaudy colour trimmed with tarnished spangles, and one of

them had a cap upon his head, tied very carefully under his chin, which

had fallen down upon his nose and completely obscured one eye; add to

this, that the gaudy coats were all wet through and discoloured with

rain, and that the wearers were splashed and dirty, and some idea may

be formed of the unusual appearance of these new visitors to the Jolly

Sandboys.

Neither Short nor the landlord nor Thomas Codlin, however, was in the

least surprised, merely remarking that these were Jerry's dogs and that

Jerry could not be far behind. So there the dogs stood, patiently

winking and gaping and looking extremely hard at the boiling pot, until

Jerry himself appeared, when they all dropped down at once and walked

about the room in their natural manner. This posture it must be

confessed did not much improve their appearance, as their own personal

tails and their coat tails--both capital things in their way--did not

agree together.

Jerry, the manager of these dancing dogs, was a tall black-whiskered

man in a velveteen coat, who seemed well known to the landlord and his

guests and accosted them with great cordiality. Disencumbering himself

of a barrel organ which he placed upon a chair, and retaining in his

hand a small whip wherewith to awe his company of comedians, he came up

to the fire to dry himself, and entered into conversation.

'Your people don't usually travel in character, do they?' said Short,

pointing to the dresses of the dogs. 'It must come expensive if they

do?'

'No,' replied Jerry, 'no, it's not the custom with us. But we've been

playing a little on the road to-day, and we come out with a new

wardrobe at the races, so I didn't think it worth while to stop to

undress. Down, Pedro!'

This was addressed to the dog with the cap on, who being a new member

of the company, and not quite certain of his duty, kept his unobscured

eye anxiously on his master, and was perpetually starting upon his hind

legs when there was no occasion, and falling down again.

'I've got a animal here,' said Jerry, putting his hand into the

capacious pocket of his coat, and diving into one corner as if he were

feeling for a small orange or an apple or some such article, 'a animal

here, wot I think you know something of, Short.'

'Ah!' cried Short, 'let's have a look at him.'

'Here he is,' said Jerry, producing a little terrier from his pocket.

'He was once a Toby of yours, warn't he!'

In some versions of the great drama of Punch there is a small dog--a

modern innovation--supposed to be the private property of that

gentleman, whose name is always Toby. This Toby has been stolen in

youth from another gentleman, and fraudulently sold to the confiding

hero, who having no guile himself has no suspicion that it lurks in

others; but Toby, entertaining a grateful recollection of his old

master, and scorning to attach himself to any new patrons, not only

refuses to smoke a pipe at the bidding of Punch, but to mark his old

fidelity more strongly, seizes him by the nose and wrings the same with

violence, at which instance of canine attachment the spectators are

deeply affected. This was the character which the little terrier in

question had once sustained; if there had been any doubt upon the

subject he would speedily have resolved it by his conduct; for not only

did he, on seeing Short, give the strongest tokens of recognition, but

catching sight of the flat box he barked so furiously at the pasteboard

nose which he knew was inside, that his master was obliged to gather

him up and put him into his pocket again, to the great relief of the

whole company.

The landlord now busied himself in laying the cloth, in which process

Mr Codlin obligingly assisted by setting forth his own knife and fork

in the most convenient place and establishing himself behind them.

When everything was ready, the landlord took off the cover for the last

time, and then indeed there burst forth such a goodly promise of

supper, that if he had offered to put it on again or had hinted at

postponement, he would certainly have been sacrificed on his own hearth.

However, he did nothing of the kind, but instead thereof assisted a

stout servant girl in turning the contents of the cauldron into a large

tureen; a proceeding which the dogs, proof against various hot splashes

which fell upon their noses, watched with terrible eagerness. At

length the dish was lifted on the table, and mugs of ale having been

previously set round, little Nell ventured to say grace, and supper

began.

At this juncture the poor dogs were standing on their hind legs quite

surprisingly; the child, having pity on them, was about to cast some

morsels of food to them before she tasted it herself, hungry though she

was, when their master interposed.

'No, my dear, no, not an atom from anybody's hand but mine if you

please. That dog,' said Jerry, pointing out the old leader of the

troop, and speaking in a terrible voice, 'lost a halfpenny to-day. He

goes without his supper.'

The unfortunate creature dropped upon his fore-legs directly, wagged

his tail, and looked imploringly at his master.

'You must be more careful, Sir,' said Jerry, walking coolly to the

chair where he had placed the organ, and setting the stop. 'Come here.

Now, Sir, you play away at that, while we have supper, and leave off if

you dare.'

The dog immediately began to grind most mournful music. His master

having shown him the whip resumed his seat and called up the others,

who, at his directions, formed in a row, standing upright as a file of

soldiers.

'Now, gentlemen,' said Jerry, looking at them attentively. 'The dog

whose name's called, eats. The dogs whose names an't called, keep

quiet. Carlo!'

The lucky individual whose name was called, snapped up the morsel

thrown towards him, but none of the others moved a muscle. In this

manner they were fed at the discretion of their master. Meanwhile the

dog in disgrace ground hard at the organ, sometimes in quick time,

sometimes in slow, but never leaving off for an instant. When the

knives and forks rattled very much, or any of his fellows got an

unusually large piece of fat, he accompanied the music with a short

howl, but he immediately checked it on his master looking round, and

applied himself with increased diligence to the Old Hundredth.

CHAPTER 19

Supper was not yet over, when there arrived at the Jolly Sandboys two

more travellers bound for the same haven as the rest, who had been

walking in the rain for some hours, and came in shining and heavy with

water. One of these was the proprietor of a giant, and a little lady

without legs or arms, who had jogged forward in a van; the other, a

silent gentleman who earned his living by showing tricks upon the

cards, and who had rather deranged the natural expression of his

countenance by putting small leaden lozenges into his eyes and bringing

them out at his mouth, which was one of his professional

accomplishments. The name of the first of these newcomers was Vuffin;

the other, probably as a pleasant satire upon his ugliness, was called

Sweet William. To render them as comfortable as he could, the landlord

bestirred himself nimbly, and in a very short time both gentlemen were

perfectly at their ease.

'How's the Giant?' said Short, when they all sat smoking round the fire.

'Rather weak upon his legs,' returned Mr Vuffin. 'I begin to be afraid

he's going at the knees.'

'That's a bad look-out,' said Short.

'Aye! Bad indeed,' replied Mr Vuffin, contemplating the fire with a

sigh. 'Once get a giant shaky on his legs, and the public care no more

about him than they do for a dead cabbage stalk.'

'What becomes of old giants?' said Short, turning to him again after a

little reflection.

'They're usually kept in carawans to wait upon the dwarfs,' said Mr

Vuffin.

'The maintaining of 'em must come expensive, when they can't be shown,

eh?' remarked Short, eyeing him doubtfully.

'It's better that, than letting 'em go upon the parish or about the

streets,' said Mr Vuffin. 'Once make a giant common and giants will

never draw again. Look at wooden legs. If there was only one man with

a wooden leg what a property he'd be!'

'So he would!' observed the landlord and Short both together. 'That's

very true.'

'Instead of which,' pursued Mr Vuffin, 'if you was to advertise

Shakspeare played entirely by wooden legs, it's my belief you wouldn't

draw a sixpence.'

'I don't suppose you would,' said Short. And the landlord said so too.

'This shows, you see,' said Mr Vuffin, waving his pipe with an

argumentative air, 'this shows the policy of keeping the used-up giants

still in the carawans, where they get food and lodging for nothing, all

their lives, and in general very glad they are to stop there. There

was one giant--a black 'un--as left his carawan some year ago and took

to carrying coach-bills about London, making himself as cheap as

crossing-sweepers. He died. I make no insinuation against anybody in

particular,' said Mr Vuffin, looking solemnly round, 'but he was

ruining the trade;--and he died.'

The landlord drew his breath hard, and looked at the owner of the dogs,

who nodded and said gruffly that he remembered.

'I know you do, Jerry,' said Mr Vuffin with profound meaning. 'I know

you remember it, Jerry, and the universal opinion was, that it served

him right. Why, I remember the time when old Maunders as had

three-and-twenty wans--I remember the time when old Maunders had in his

cottage in Spa Fields in the winter time, when the season was over,

eight male and female dwarfs setting down to dinner every day, who was

waited on by eight old giants in green coats, red smalls, blue cotton

stockings, and high-lows: and there was one dwarf as had grown elderly

and wicious who whenever his giant wasn't quick enough to please him,

used to stick pins in his legs, not being able to reach up any higher.

I know that's a fact, for Maunders told it me himself.'

'What about the dwarfs when they get old?' inquired the landlord.