Stephen Archer and Other Tales by George MacDonald (most popular ebook readers txt) 📕

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Mat . I don't know what one of those things tastes like-scarce one; and I don't believe you do either.

Sus . Don't I?-I never did taste champagne, but I've seen them eating lobster-salad many a time;-girls not half so good-lookin' as you or me, Mattie, and fine gentlemen a waitin' upon 'em. Oh dear! I am so hungry! Think of having your supper with a real gentleman as talks to you as if you was fit to talk to-not like them Jew-tailors, as tosses your work about as if it dirtied their fingers-and them none so clean for all their fine rings!

Mat . I saw Nathan's Joseph in a pastrycook's last Saturday, and a very pretty girl with him, poor thing!

Sus . Oh the hussy to let that beast pay for her!

Mat . I suppose she was hungry.

Sus . I'd die before I let a snob like that treat me . No, Mattie! I spoke of a real gentleman.

Mat . Are you sure you wouldn't take Nathan's Joseph for a gentleman if he was civil to you?

Sus . Thank you, miss! I know a sham from a real gentleman the moment I set eyes on him.

Mat . What do you mean by a real gentleman, Susan?

Sus . A gentleman as makes a lady of his girl.

Mat . But what sort of lady, Sue? The poor girl may fancy herself a lady, but only till she's left in the dirt. That sort of gentleman makes fine speeches to your face, and calls you horrid names behind your back. Sue, dear, don't have a word to say to one of them-if he speaks ever so soft.

Sus . Lawks, Mattie! they ain't all one sort.

Mat . You won't have more than one sort to choose from. They may be rough or civil, good-natured or bad, but they're all the same in this, that not one of them cares a pin more for you than if you was a horse-no-nor half a quarter so much. Don't for God's sake have a word to say to one of them. If I die, Susan-

Sus . If you do, Matilda-if you go and do that thing, I'll take to gin-that's what I'll do. Don't say I didn't act fair, and tell you beforehand.

Mat . How can I help dying, Susan?

Sus . I say, Don't do it, Mattie. We'll fall out, if you do. Don't do it, Matilda-La! there's that lumping Bill again- al ways a comin' up the stair when you don't want him!

Enter BILL.

Mat . Well, Bill, how have you been getting on?

Bill . Pretty tollol, Mattie. But I can't go on so. ( Holds out his stool .) It ain't respectable.

Mat . What ain't respectable? Everything's respectable that's honest.

Bill . Why, who ever saw a respectable shiner goin' about with a three-legged stool for a blackin' box? It ain't the thing. The rig'lars chaffs me fit to throw it at their 'eads, they does-only there's too many on 'em, an' I've got to dror it mild. A box I must have, or a feller's ockypation's gone. Look ye here! One bob, one tanner, and a joey! There! that's what comes of never condescending to an 'a'penny.

Sus . Bless us! what mighty fine words we've got a waitin' on us!

Bill . If I 'ave a weakness, Miss Susan, it's for the right word in the right place-as the coster said to the devil-dodger as blowed him up for purfane swearin'.-When a gen'leman hoffers me an 'a'penny, I axes him in the purlitest manner I can assume, to oblige me by givin' of it to the first beggar he may 'ave the good fort'n to meet. Some on 'em throws down the 'a'penny. Most on 'em makes it a penny.-But I say, Mattie, you don't want nobody arter you-do you now?

Mat . I don't know what you mean by that, Bill.

Bill . You don't want a father-do you now? Do she, Susan?

Sus . We want no father a hectorin' here, Bill. You 'ain't seen one about, have you?

Bill . I seen a rig'lar swell arter Mattie, anyhow.

Mat . What do you mean, Bill? Bill. A rig'lar swell-I repeats it-a astin' arter a young woman by the name o' Mattie.

Sus . ( pulling him aside ). Hold your tongue, Bill! You'll kill her! You young viper! Hold your tongue, or I'll twist your neck. Don't you see how white she is?

Mat . What was he like? Do tell me, Bill.

Bill . A long-legged rig'lar swell, with a gold chain, and a cane with a hivory 'andle.

Sus . He's a bad man, Bill, and Mattie can't abide him. If you tell him where she is, she'll never speak to you again.

Mat . Oh, Susan! what shall I do? Don't bring him here, Bill. I shall have to run away again; and I can't, for we owe a week's rent.

Sus . There, Bill!

Bill . Don't you be afeard, Mattie. He shan't touch you. Nor the old one neither.

Mat . There wasn't an old man with him?-not an old man with a long stick?

Bill . Not with him . Daddy was on his own hook?

Mat . It must have been my father, Susan. ( Sinks back on her chair .)

Sus . 'Tain't the least likely.-There, Bill! I always said you was no good! You've killed her.

Bill . Mattie! Mattie! I didn't tell him where you was.

Mat . ( reviving ). Run and fetch him, Bill-there's a dear! Oh! how proud I've been! If mother did say a hard word, she didn't mean it-not for long. Run, Bill, run and fetch him.

Bill . Mattie, I was a fetchin' of him, but he wouldn't trust me. And didn't he cut up crusty, and collar me tight! He's a game old cock-he is, Mattie.

Mat . ( getting up and pacing about the room ). Oh, Susan! my heart'll break. To think he's somewhere near and I can't get to him! Oh my side!
Don't you know where he is, Bill?

Bill . He's someveres about, and blow me if I don't, find him!-a respectable old party in a white pinny, an' 'peared as if he'd go on a walkin' till he walked hisself up staudin'. A scrumptious old party!

Mat . Had he a stick, Bill?

Bill . Yes-a knobby stick-leastways a stick wi' knobs all over it.

Mat . That's him, Susan!

Bill . I could swear to the stick. I was too near gittin' at the taste on it not to know it again.

Mat . When was it you saw him, Bill?

Bill . Yesterday, Mattie-jest arter you give me the tart. I sawr him again this mornin', but he wouldn't place no confidence in me.

Mat . Oh dear! Why didn't you come straight to me, Bill?

Bill . If I'd only ha' known as you wanted him! But that was sech a
un likely thing! It's werry perwokin'! I uses my judgment, an' puts my hoof in it! I am sorry, Mattie. But I didn't know no better ( crying ).

Mat . Don't cry, Bill. You'll find him for me yet-won't you?

Bill . I'm off this indentical minute. But you see-

Sus . There! there!-now you mizzle. I don't want no fathers here-goodness knows; but the poor girl's took a fancy to hers, and she'll die if she don't get him. Run now-there's a good boy! ( Exit BILL.) You 'ain't forgotten who's a comin', Mattie?

Mat . No, indeed.

Sus . Well, I hope she'll be civil, or I'll just give her a bit of my mind.

Mat . Not enough to change hers, I'm afraid. That sort of thing never does any good.

Sus . And am I to go a twiddlin' of my thumbs, and sayin' yes, ma'am , an' no, ma'am ? Not if I knows it, Matilda!

Mat . You will only make her the more positive in her ill opinion of us.

Sus . An' what's that to me?

Mat . Well, I don't like to be thought a thief. Besides, Mrs. Clifford has been kind to us.

Sus . She's paid us for work done; so has old Nathan.

Mat . Did old Nathan ever give you a glass of wine when you took home his slops?

Sus . Oh! that don't cost much; and besides, she takes it out in kingdom-come.

Mat . You're unfair, Susan.

Sus . Well, it's little fairness I get.

Mat . And to set that right you're unfair yourself! What you call speaking your mind, is as cheap, and as nasty, as the worst shoddy old Nathan ever got gobble-stitched into coats and trousers.

Sus . Very well, Miss Matilda! ( rising and snatching her bonnet ). The sooner we part the better! You stick by your fine friends! I don't care
that for them! ( snapping her fingers )-and you may tell 'em so! I can make a livin' without them or you either. Goodness gracious knows it ain't much of a livin' I've made sin' I come across you , Miss! Exit .

Mat ( trying to rise ). Susan! Susan! ( Lays her head on the table ).

A tap at the door, and enter MRS. CLIFFORD, with JAMES behind .
MATTIE rises .

Mrs. C. Wait on the landing, James.

James . Yes, ma'am.

Exit JAMES, leaving the door a little ajar .

Mrs. C. Well, Miss Pearson! ( Mattie offers a chair .) No, thank you. That person is still with you, I see!

Mat . Indeed, ma'am, she's an honest girl.

Mrs. C. She is a low creature, and capable of anything. I advise you to get rid of her.

Mat . Was she rude on the stair, ma'am?

Mrs. C. Rude! Vulgar-quite vulgar! Insulting!

Mat . I am very sorry. But, believe me, ma'am, she is an honest girl, and never pawned that work. It was done-every stitch of it; and the loss of the money is hard upon us too. Indeed, ma'am, she did lose the parcel.

Mrs. C. You have only her word for it. If you don't give her up, I give you up.

Mat . I can't, ma'am. She might go into bad ways if I did.

Mrs. C. She can't well get into worse. Her language! You would do ever so much better without her.

Mat . I daren't, ma'am. I should never get it off