The Story of Antony Grace

“Ah! thought it was.”

Revitts sent his elbows into Mary and me again, and had a silent laugh under one glove, but pricked up his ears directly, as the conductor shouted again:

“Ain’t that Bob Binnies?”

“What, him on the orf side?” said the driver, pointing with his whip.

“Yes.”

“Well, what of him?”

“What of him? Why, he’s the chap as got married, and had such a large family.”

“Did he, though?” said the driver seriously.

“Ten children in five years, Bill.”

“Lor’! with only five-and-twenty shillings a week. How did he manage?”

Revitts looked very serious here, and sat listening for the answer.

“Kep’ him precious poor; but, stop a moment, I ain’t quite right. It was five children in ten years.”

Revitts made another serious assault on my ribs, and I saw Mary give herself a hitch; and whisper again to her lord.

There was a general laugh at this stale old joke, which, like many more well-worn ones, however, seemed to take better than the keenest wit, and just then the omnibus drew up in front of an inn to change horses.

The driver unbuckled and threw down his reins, previous to descending to join the conductor, who was already off his perch. Several of the passengers got down, and after bidding Mary and me keep our places, Revitts prepared to descend, rather more slowly though, for his wedding garments were not commodious.

“Don’t drink anything, William dear,” whispered Mary.

“Not drink anything to-day?” he said, laughing. “Oh, come, that won’t do!”

He jumped off the step, and I saw him join the driver and conductor, who laughed and nodded, and, directly after, each man had a foaming pint of ale, which they held before putting to their lips, till Revitts came round to our side with a waiter bearing two glasses of wine and another pint of ale, the driver and conductor following.

“Oh, I don’t want anything,” said Mary, rather sharply.

“It’s only sherry wine, my dear,” said Revitts magnificently; and, as if to avoid remark, Mary stooped down and took the glasses, one being for me, Revitts taking his shiny pewter measure of ale.

“Here is long life and happiness to you, mum, and both on you,” said the driver, nodding in the most friendly way.

“Aforesaid,” exclaimed the conductor, “and a bit o’ chaff on’y meant as fun. Long life and a merry one to both on you. Shaver, same to you.”

I was the “Shaver,” and the healths being drunk in solemn silence, and I accommodated with a tumbler, and some water to my sherry, the driver mounted again, the conductor took out his key-bugle, the streets of pretty Richmond echoed to an old-fashioned air, and the four fresh but very dilapidated old screws that did the journey to Hampton Court and back to Richmond were shaken into a scrambling canter, so that in due time we reached the royal village, the chaff having been damped at Richmond with the ale, and ceasing afterwards to fly.

I’ve learned that a return omnibus left the “Toy” at seven o’clock, and then started for our peregrination of the palace and grounds. But somehow that pint or ale seemed to have completely changed poor Revitts. The late injury to his head had made him so weak there, that the ale acted upon him in the strangest manner. He was excited and irritable, and seemed to be brooding over the remarks he had heard upon the omnibus.

The gardens, of course, took our attention first, and there being few people about, and those of a holiday class, the gay costume of my companions ceased to excite notice, and I began to enjoy our trip. There were the great smooth gravel walks, the closely shaven lawns, the quaintly clipped shrubs, and old-fashioned flower beds to admire. The fountain in the centre made so much spray in the pleasant breeze that from one point of view there was a miniature rainbow, and when we walked down to the iron railings, and gazed at the long avenue of the Home Park, with its bright canal-like lake between, Mary was enraptured.

“Oh, do look, dear!” she exclaimed; “isn’t it ’evingly, William?”

“Yes,” he said stolidly, as he took hold of the railing with his white kid glove; “but what I say is this: Every man who enters into the state of wedlock ought fust to make sure as the woman he marries ain’t a big-a-mee.”

Here he unbuttoned his waistcoat, under the impression that it was his uniform coat, so as to get out his notebook, and then, awakening to his mistake, hastily buttoned it again.

“Haven’t got a pencil and a bit o’ paper, have you, Ant’ny?” he said.

“What are you talking about, William?” exclaimed Mary. “Don’t be so foolish. Now, take us and show us the oranges Master Antony,” she said.

This was on the strength of my having invested in a guidebook, though both my companions seemed to place themselves in my hands, and looked up to me as being crammed with a vast amount of knowledge about Cardinal Wolsey, Henry the Eighth, and those who had made the palace their home.

So I took them to see the Orangery, which Revitts, who seemed quite out of temper, looked down upon with contempt.

“Bah!” he exclaimed; “call them oranges! Why, I could go and buy twice as good in Grey’s Inn Lane for three a penny. That there woman, Ant’ny, what was her name?”

“What woman?”

“Her as committed big-a-mee?”

“Oh, do adone with such stuff, William dear. Now, Master Antony, what’s next?”

“I know,” said Revitts oracularly, “Mrs Simmons. I say she ought to have been examined before a police magistrate, and after proper adjournments, and the case regularly made up by the sergeant who had it in charge, she ought to have been committed for trial.”

“Oh, William dear, do adone,” cried Mary, clinging to his arm.

“Cent. Crim. Court – ”

“William!”

“Old Bailey – ”

“William dear!”

“Before a jury of her fellow-countrymen, or, – I say, Ant’ny ain’t that wrong?”

“What?” I said, laughing.

“Oh, it ain’t a thing to laugh at, my lad. It’s serious,” he said, taking off his hat and rubbing his head, exhaling, as he did so, a strong smell of hair-oil.

“What is serious?” I said.

“Why, that,” replied Revitts, “I ain’t sure, in a case like that, it oughtn’t to be a jury of matrons.”

“Oh do, pray, hurry him along, Master Antony,” cried Mary piteously. “Whatever is the matter with you to-day, William?”

“I’m married,” he said severely.

“And you don’t wish you weren’t. William, don’t say so, please,” exclaimed Mary pitifully.