The Lady of the Barge - W. W. Jacobs (speld decodable readers .txt) 📗

He completed his scheme the following day after a short interview with the useful Smith. By the afternoon Wiggett found that his exclusive information was common property, and all Thatcham was marvelling at the fortitude with which Mrs. Pullen was bearing the loss of her fortune. With a view of being out of the way when the denial was published, Mr. Miller, after loudly expressing in public his sympathy for Mrs. Pullen and his admiration of her qualities, drove over with some pigs to a neighbouring village, returning to Thatcham in the early evening. Then hurriedly putting his horse up he made his way to the carpenter’s.

The Tidgers were at home when he entered, and Mrs. Pullen flushed faintly as he shook hands.

“I was coming in before,” he said, impressively, “after what I heard this afternoon, but I had to drive over to Thorpe.”

“You ’eard it?” inquired the carpenter, in an incredulous voice.

“Certainly,” said the dealer, “and very sorry I was. Sorry for one thing, but glad for another.”

The carpenter opened his mouth and seemed about to speak. Then he checked himself suddenly and gazed with interest at the ingenuous dealer.

“I’m glad,” said Mr. Miller, slowly, as he nodded at a friend of Mrs. Tidger’s who had just come in with a long face, “because now that Mrs. Pullen is poor, I can say to her what I couldn’t say while she was rich.”

Again the astonished carpenter was about to speak, but the dealer hastily checked him with his hand.

“One at a time,” he said. “Mrs. Pullen, I was very sorry to hear this afternoon, for your sake, that you had lost all your money. What I wanted to say to you now, now that you are poor, was to ask you to be Mrs. Miller. What d’ye say?”

Mrs. Pullen, touched at so much goodness, wept softly and said, “Yes.” The triumphant Miller took out his handkerchief⁠—the same that he had used the previous night, for he was not an extravagant man⁠—and tenderly wiped her eyes.

“Well, I’m blowed!” said the staring carpenter.

“I’ve got a nice little ’ouse,” continued the wily Mr. Miller. “It’s a poor place, but nice, and we’ll play draughts every evening. When shall it be?”

“When you like,” said Mrs. Pullen, in a faint voice.

“I’ll put the banns up tomorrow,” said the dealer.

Mrs. Tidger’s lady friend giggled at so much haste, but Mrs. Tidger, who felt that she had misjudged him, was touched.

“It does you credit, Mr. Miller,” she said, warmly.

“No, no,” said the dealer; and then Mr. Tidger got up, and crossing the room, solemnly shook hands with him.

“Money or no money, she’ll make a good wife,” he said.

“I’m glad you’re pleased,” said the dealer, wondering at this cordiality.

“I don’t deny I thought you was after her money,” continued the carpenter, solemnly. “My missus thought so, too.”

Mr. Miller shook his head, and said he thought they would have known him better.

“Of course it is a great loss,” said the carpenter. “Money is money.”

“That’s all it is, though,” said the slightly mystified Mr. Miller.

“What I can’t understand is,” continued the carpenter, “ ’ow the news got about. Why, the neighbours knew of it a couple of hours before we did.”

The dealer hid a grin. Then he looked a bit bewildered again.

“I assure you,” said the carpenter, “it was known in the town at least a couple of hours before we got the letter.”

Mr. Miller waited a minute to get perfect control over his features. “Letter?” he repeated, faintly.

“The letter from the lawyers,” said the carpenter.

Mr. Miller was silent again. His features were getting tiresome. He eyed the door furtively.

“What⁠—was⁠—in⁠—the letter?” he asked.

“Short and sweet,” said the carpenter, with bitterness. “Said it was all a mistake, because they’d been and found another will. People shouldn’t make such mistakes.”

“We’re all liable to make mistakes,” said Miller, thinking he saw an opening.

“Yes, we made a mistake when we thought you was after Ann’s money,” assented the carpenter. “I’m sure I thought you’d be the last man in the world to be pleased to hear that she’d lost it. One thing is, you’ve got enough for both.”

Mr. Miller made no reply, but in a dazed way strove to realize the full measure of the misfortune which had befallen him. The neighbour, with the anxiety of her sex to be the first with a bit of news, had already taken her departure. He thought of Wiggett walking the earth a free man, and of Smith with a three-months’ bill for twenty pounds. His pride as a dealer was shattered beyond repair, and emerging from a species of mist, he became conscious that the carpenter was addressing him.

“We’ll leave you two young things alone for a bit,” said Mr. Tidger, heartily. “We’re going out. When you’re tired o’ courting you can play draughts, and Ann will show you one or two of ’er moves. So long.”

The talk in the coffee-room had been of ghosts and apparitions, and nearly everybody present had contributed his mite to the stock of information upon a hazy and somewhat threadbare subject. Opinions ranged from rank incredulity to childlike faith, one believer going so far as to denounce unbelief as impious, with a reference to the Witch of Endor, which was somewhat marred by being complicated in an inexplicable fashion with the story of Jonah.

“Talking of Jonah,” he said solemnly, with a happy disregard of the fact that he had declined to answer several eager questions put to him on the subject, “look at the strange tales sailors tell us.”

“I wouldn’t advise you to believe all those,” said a bluff, clean-shaven man, who had been listening without speaking much. “You see when a sailor gets ashore he’s expected to have something to tell, and his friends would be rather disappointed if he had not.”

“It’s a well-known fact,” interrupted the first speaker firmly, “that sailors are very prone to see visions.”

“They are,” said the other dryly, “they generally see them in pairs, and the shock to the nervous system frequently causes headache next morning.”

“You never saw