"And lookee here," said Mr. b.u.mpkin, "didn't I come out to thee two or three times, and call thee out and tell 'ee to tak' heed to thic soger feller, for he wur up to no good? Did I Joe, or did I not?"

"Thee did, maister."

"Well, an' now look where thee be; he've regler took thee in, thee silly fool."

"No, he beant; for he wouldn't 'ave I at fust, and told I to goo and ax my mither. No ses I, I'll goo to the divil afore I be gwine to ax mither. I beant a child, I ses."

"But thee's fond o' thy poor old mither, Joe; I knows thee be, and sends her a shillin' a week out o' thy wages; don't thee, Joe?"

This was an awkward thrust, and p.r.i.c.ked the lad in his most sensitive part. His under-lip drooped, his mouth twitched, and his eyes glistened.

He was silent.

"Where'll thy poor old mither get a shilling a week from noo, Joe?

That's what I wants to know."

Joe drew his sleeve over his face, but bore up bravely withal. _He_ wasn't going to cry, not he.

"Thee beest a silly feller to leave a good ooame and nine shillin' a week to goo a sogerin; and when thee was out o' work, there were allays a place for thee, Joe, at the fireside: now, warnt there, Joe?"

"Lookee 'ere, maister, I be for betterin' myself."

"Betterin' thyself? who put that into thy silly pate? thic sergeant, I bleeve."

"So ur did; not by anything ur said, but to see un wi beef steaks and ingons for supper, while I doan't 'ave a mouthful o' mate once a week, and work like a oa.r.s.e."

"Poor silly feller-O dear, dear! whatever wool I tell Nancy and thy poor mither. What redgimen be thee in, Joe?"

"Hooroars!"

"Hooroars! hoo-devils!" and I perceived that Mr. b.u.mpkin's eyes began to glisten as he more and more realized the fact that Joe was no more to him-"thee manest the oosors, thee silly feller; a pooty oosor thee'll make!"

"I tellee what," said Joe, whose pride was now touched, "Maister Sergeant said I wur the finest made chap he ever see."

"That's ow ur gulled thee, Joe."

"Noa didn't; I went o' my own free will. No man should persuade I-trust Joe for thic: couldn't persuade I to goo, nor yet not to goo."

"That's right," chimed in Miss Prettyface, with her sweet little voice.

"And thee sewed the colours on; didn't thee, Miss?"

"I did," answered the young lady.

"Joe," said Mr. b.u.mpkin, "I be mortal sorry for thee; what'll I do wirout thy evidence? Lawyer Prigg say thee's the most wallible witness for I."

"Lookee 'ere, maister, ere we bin 'anging about for weeks and weeks and no forrerder so far as I can see. When thy case'll come on I don't bleeve no man can tell; but whensomdever thee wants Joe, all thee've got to do is to write to the Queen, and she'll gie I leave."

"O thee silly, igerant a.s.s!" said Mr. b.u.mpkin; "I can't help saying it, Joe-the Queen doan't gie leave, it be the kernel. I know zummut o'

sogerin, thee see; I were in th' militia farty year agoo: but spoase thee be away-abraird? How be I to get at thee then?"

"Ha! if I be away in furren parts, and thy case be in the list, I doant zee-"

"Thee silly feller, thee'll ha to goo fightin' may be."

"Well," said Joe, "I loikes fightin'."

"Thee loikes fightin'! what's thee know about fightin'? never fit anything in thy life but thic boar-pig, when he got I down in the yard.

O, Joe, I can't bear the thought o thee goin'."

"Noa, but Maister Sergeant says thee jist snicks off the 'eads of the enemy like snickin' off the tops o' beans."

"Yes, but ow if thee gets thine snicked off?"

"Well, if mine be snicked off, it wunt be no use to I, and I doan't care who has un when I ha' done wi un: anybody's welcome as thinks he can do better with un than I, or 'as moore right to un."

"Joe, Joe, whatever'll them there pigs do wirout thee, and thic there bull 'll goo out of his mind-he wur mighty fond o' thee, Joe-thee couldst do anything wi un: couldn't ur, Joe?"

"Ha!" said the recruit; "that there bull ud foller I about anywhere, and so ur would Missis."

"Then there be Polly!"

"Ha, that there Polly, she c.o.c.ked her noase at I, maister, becos she thought I worn't good enough; but wait till she sees me in my cloase; she wunt c.o.c.k her noase at I then, I'll warrant."

"Well, Joe, as thee maks thy bed so thee must lie on un, lad. I wish thee well, Joe."

"Never wronged thee, did I, maister?"

"Never; no, never." And at this point master and man shook hands affectionately.

"Gie my love to thic bull," said Joe. "I shall come down as soon as evir I can: I wish they'd let me bring my oa.r.s.e."

"Joe, thee ha' had too much to drink, I know thee has; and didn't I warn thee, Joe? Thee can't say I didn't warn thee."

"Thee did, maister, I'll allays say it; thee warned I well-but lor that there stuff as the Sergeant had, it jist shoots through thee and livins thee oop for all the world as if thee got a young ooman in thee arms in a dancin' booth at the fair."

"Ha, Joe, it were drink done it."

"Noa, noa, never!-good-night, maister, and G.o.d bless thee-thee been a good maister, and I been a good sarvant. I shall allays think o' thee and Missis, too."

Here I saw that Mr. b.u.mpkin, what with his feelings and what with his gin-and-water, was well nigh overcome with emotion. Nor was it to be wondered at; he was in London a stranger, waiting for a trial with a neighbour, with whom for years he had been on friendly terms; his hard savings were fast disappearing; his stock and furniture were mortgaged; some of it had been sold, and his princ.i.p.al witness and faithful servant was now gone for a soldier. In addition to all this, poor Mr. b.u.mpkin could not help recalling the happiness of his past life, his early struggles, his rigid self-denial, his pleasure as the modest savings acc.u.mulated-not so much occasioned by the sordid desire of wealth, as the n.o.bler wish to be independent. Then there was Mrs. b.u.mpkin, who naturally crossed his mind at this miserable moment in his existence-at home by herself-faithful, hardworking woman, who believed not only in her husband's wisdom, but in his luck. She had never liked this going to law, and would much rather have given Snooks the pig than it should have come about; yet she could not help believing that her husband must be right come what may. What would she think of Joe's leaving them in this way? All this pa.s.sed through the shallow mind of the farmer as he prepared for bed. And there was no getting away from his thoughts, try as he would. As he lay on his bed there pa.s.sed before his mind the old farm-house, with its elm tree; and the barnyard, newly littered down with the sweet smelling fodder; the orchard blossoms smiling in the morning sunshine; the pigs routing through the straw; the excited ducks and the swifter fowls rushing towards Mrs. b.u.mpkin as she came out to shake the tablecloth; the sleek and shining cows; the meadows dotted all over with yellow b.u.t.tercups; the stately bull feeding in the distance by himself; the lazy stream that pursued its even course without a quarrel or a lawsuit; all these, and a thousand other remembrances of home, pa.s.sed before the excited and somewhat distempered vision of the farmer on this unhappy night. Had he been a criminal waiting his trial he could not have been more wretched. At length he endeavoured to console himself by thinking of Snooks: tried to believe that victory over that ill-disposed person would repay the trouble and anxiety it cost him to achieve. But no, not even revenge was sweet under his present circ.u.mstances. It is always an apple of ashes at the best; but, weighed now against the comforts and happiness of a peaceful life, it was worse than ashes-it was poison.

Here I awoke.

"Now," said my wife, "is it not just as I told you? I knew that artful Sergeant would enlist poor stupid Joe?"

"O," quoth I, "have I been talking again?"