Thereby Hangs a Tale. Volume One

Netta’s clutch of her mother’s hand grew convulsive, and her face wore so horrified an expression that Mrs Jenkles did not reply to the challenge directed at her, but stepped to the poor girl’s side.

“Don’t you be frightened, my dear,” she whispered; and then to herself – “Why don’t Sam come?”

“Mr Sturt,” said Mrs Lane, firmly in voice, though she trembled as she spoke to the fellow, “you have no right to try and force us to stay if we wish to leave.”

“Oh! aint I,” said Barney. “I’ll let you see about that. Here, give us that,” he said, turning to snatch a paper from his wife’s hand. “Let alone what he telled me too, about yer – ”

“He! Who?” exclaimed Mrs Lane, excitedly.

Netta started from her chair.

“Never you mind,” said Barney, showing his great teeth in a grin. “You think I don’t know all about yer, now, don’t yer? But you’re precious mistaken!”

“But tell me, man, has any one – ”

“There, there, it’s all right, Mrs Lane – you’ve got to stop here, that’s what you’ve got to do. What have you got to say to that, for another thing?”

As Barney spoke, he thrust the paper down before Mrs Lane, and went on smoking furiously.

“What’s this? I don’t owe you anything,” said Mrs Lane, whose courage seemed failing.

“Don’t owe us anything, indeed!” said Mrs Sturt, in her vinegary voice; “why, there’s seven pun’ ten, and seven for grosheries!”

“Oh! this is cruel as it’s scandalous and false!” cried Mrs Lane, in reply to Mrs Jenkles’s look. “I do not owe a shilling.”

“Which you do – there!” cried Mrs Sturt; “and not a thing goes off these premishes till it’s paid.”

“And they don’t go off, nor them nayther, when it is paid,” said Barney, grinning offensively. “So now, Mrs What’s-yer-name, you’d better be off!”

Mrs Jenkles had been very quiet, but her face had been growing red and fiery during all this, and she gave a sigh of relief as she patted Netta on the shoulder; for at that moment Sam came slowly into the room, closed the door, and bowed and smiled to Mrs Lane and her daughter.

“Sam,” said Mrs Jenkles; and then she stopped almost aghast at her husband’s proceedings, for with a sharp flourish of the hand, he knocked Barney’s pipe from his mouth, the stem breaking close to his teeth, and he looking perfectly astonished at the cabman’s daring.

“What are yer smoking like that for, here? Can’t yer see it makes the young lady cough?”

“I’ll – ” exclaimed Barney, rushing at Sam menacingly; and Netta uttered a shriek.

“Don’t you mind him, Miss,” said Sam, laughing, “it’s only his fun. It’s a little playful way he’s got with him, that’s all. Which is the boxes?”

“That trunk, and the carpet-bag, Sam,” said Mrs Jenkles; and Sam advanced to them.

“Hadn’t we better give up?” said Mrs Lane, pitifully; and she glanced at Netta who trembled violently.

“I should think not, indeed,” said Mrs Jenkles. “Don’t you be afraid – they daren’t stop you.”

“But we just dare,” said Mrs Sturt, furiously. “Not a thing goes off till my bill’s paid.”

“And they don’t go off when it is! now then,” said Barney.

“Don’t let him touch those things,” said Mrs Sturt.

“Sam, you take that trunk down directly,” said Mrs Jenkles. “Now, my dear; come along.”

“All right,” said Sam, and he advanced to the trunk; but Barney pushed himself forward, and sat down upon the box; while, as Mrs Jenkles placed her arm round Netta, and led her towards the door, Mrs Sturt jerked herself to it, and placed her back against the panels.

“You’re a nice ’un, you are, Barney Sturt, Esquire, of the suburban races,” said Sam, good-temperedly; “but it aint no good, so get up, and let’s go quietly.”

Barney growled out an oath, and showed his teeth, as Mrs Lane came up to Sam, and laid her hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you much,” she said, with a shudder; “but I give up: we cannot go.”

“Believe you can’t,” said Barney, grinning. “D’yer hear that, cabby?”

“Yes, I hear,” said Sam, gruffly; “and if it weren’t that I don’t want to make a row afore the ladies, I’d have you off that trunk afore you knew where you was. And as to leaving the box alone, my missus said I was to take it down to the keb. Is it to go, old lady?”

“Yes, certainly,” said Mrs Jenkles, with flashing eyes.

“Now, Barney, d’yer hear?” said Sam.

“Who do you call Barney? You don’t know me,” said he.

“Oh no,” said Sam; “I don’t know you. I didn’t give yer a lift in my ’ansom, and drive yer away down at ’Ampton, when the mob had torn yer clothes into rags for welching, and they was going to pitch yer in the Thames, eh?”

Barney scowled, and shuffled about on his seat.

“Now, then,” said Sam; “are you going to get up?”

“No,” said Barney.

“Mrs Jenkles, pray end this scene!” exclaimed Mrs Lane, pitifully – “for her sake,” she added in a whisper.

“I’ll end it, mum,” said Sam.

And he gave a sharp whistle, with the result that the door was opened so violently that Mrs Sturt was jerked forward against Sam, the cause being a policeman, who now stood in the entry, with the further effect that Barney leaped off the trunk, and stood looking aghast.

Mrs Jenkles gave a sigh of relief, and a gratified look at her husband.

“Here’s the case, policeman,” said Sam. “Ladies here wants to leave these lodgings: they’ve given notice and paid their rent; but the missus here brings out a bill for things as the lady says she’s never had, and wants to stop their boxes. It’s county court, aint it? They can’t stop the clothes?”

“Nobody wants to stop no boxes,” said Barney, uneasily. “Only it was precious shabby on ’em going like this.”

“Then you don’t want to stop the boxes, eh?” said Sam.

Mrs Sturt gave her husband a sharp dig with her elbow.

“Be quiet, can’t you!” he snarled; and then to Sam, “’course I don’t.”

“Then ketch hold o’ t’other end,” said Sam, placing the bag on the trunk.