Strategic Management Concepts and Cases 13th Edition David Solutions Manual
Strategic Management Concepts and Cases 13th Edition David Solutions Manual
Strategic Management Concepts and Cases 13th Edition David Solutions Manual
Strategic Management Concepts and Cases 13th Edition David Solutions Manual
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22. all the Ladies, to keep up our Courage. Every body talked
fast and ate fast too, as we were elated at our Escape and
pretty hungry. I should tell you, the fat Woman maintained
that her snappish little Puppy had thrown the Robber off his
Guard; but the Squire shook his Head upon't. While fresh
Horses were putting to, a couple of Horsemen, apparently a
Clergyman and his Servant, rode into the Inn-Yard. The
Squire, stepping out to them, related what had just
occurred, and cautioned them against crossing the Heath
unarmed. They thanked him, but told him they were two
Police-Officers in Disguise, and well armed in the Hope of
Attack. In fact, as we have since learnt, they were beset by
the very Men who had assailed us, and giving Chase to the
Gang, who dispersed as wide as they could, followed them
all across the Country till they succeeded in capturing two;
one of whom swam his Horse across a River, but was taken
on the other Side. The Squire has since been asked to
appear against them, but has declined, saying there is
already sufficient Evidence, and he has no Mind to swear
away Lives that he spared when his Blood was hot.
"After this, you may suppose we could talk of Nothing but
Murders, Robberies and such-like delightful Subjects during
the greater Part of our Journey: and each seemed trying to
outdo the other, in hope of making the others forget how
tamely all had behaved except the Squire. Gradually we
dropped our Companions at one Place or another, till none
remained but the Squire, myself, and the fat Woman. He
now began to be amused at the Joy I could not help
betraying at the Sight of every well-known Landmark, and
tried to tease me by supposing a Dozen ridiculous Accidents
that might have happened at Home, to disappoint me of
my Pleasure. At length, we stopped at the Corner of a By-
Road in Larkfield Parish, and young Mr. Heavitree comes
up. 'Are you there, Father?' says he, scrambling up on the
Step to look in. 'All right, my Boy,' says the Squire, grasping
23. his Hand, which he shook heartily, 'and here's Gatty
Bowerbank come Home to see her Mother.' Mr. Heavitree
gave me such a cheerful Smile! 'How glad they will all be!'
said he, 'they do not in the least expect you, and have been
wondering why you have let them be so long without a
Letter. I was at your Mother's just now.' 'She's quite well,
then?' cried I. 'Oh yes,' said he, 'but you don't look very
well, I think.' 'Manners, Jack!' says the Squire. 'Well, Father,
I meant no Harm; here are Horses, Sir, for you and me, and
a light Cart for your Luggage.' 'Put Mrs. Gatty's Baggage
into the Cart too, my Boy,' says the Squire, 'and send the
Horses round to the Green Hatch, for I've a Mind to walk
across the Fields with this young Damsel, and see what
Reception she gets, and I suppose you won't Mind coming
along with us.' 'Not I, Sir,' said Mr. Heavitree, 'I shall like it
very much.' So, when the Luggage was put in the Cart, and
the Coachman was settled with, we started off, as sociable
as could be, talking about the Highway Robbery; and the
Squire took Care to tell his Son that I was the only Woman
who did not scream when the Pistol was fired into the
Coach. Well, we got to the dear old Garden-Gate; and
there, strolling along the pebbled Walk just within it, were
Lucy and Pen, their Arms about each other's Necks.—The
Squire hemmed; they looked round; and oh! what a Cry of
Joy they gave! My Mother, hearing the Noise, came out....
"Dear Mrs. Patty, I am writing as small as ever I can, and
must write still smaller, if I mean to get in Half of what I
want to say. Imagine what a happy Evening we had! My
dear Mother shed many Tears, though, when she heard of
your Kindness to me throughout my Illness; and desired me
to express her Thankfulness to you all in the strongest
Terms I could frame. My Ten Pounds proved very
acceptable, as it made up, with her Savings, just the Sum
she wants to bind Joe to our Village Doctor. Penelope is
learning to make Bone-Lace; and Mrs. Evans is so well
24. content with Lucy, that she is going to take her as second
Teacher in her School next Quarter, so that we are all
getting on mighty well, one Way and another. Also my
Mother has realized a pretty little Sum by the Sale of some
of my Father's Latin Books, and there are yet more left.
Your delicious Plum-Cake was done ample Justice to, and
the Boys declare there never were such Gingerbread-Nuts.
Now I have filled my Paper to the very Edge, and yet how
much I have left unsaid! Put yourself in my Place, and you
will know all I would say to you, and to dear Mrs.
Honeywood, and to Prue; not forgetting Mr. Honeywood, to
whom give my kind Regards."
"Your ever attached and grateful
"Gertrude Bowerbank."
My Father, who was smoking his Pipe whilst I read this Letter to him
and my Mother, presently said, "I see them all!"
"See who, Father?"
"Everybody in Mrs. Gatty's Letter—The old Woman with her Pipe, the
old Gentleman in his Roquelaure, the Robber hung in Chains on the
lone Heath, the Highwaymen, the stout old Squire leaping out with
his Blunderbuss, my Lord Duke coming up, the Police-Officers riding
into the Yard, the young Farmer coming to meet his Father, Gatty
flying up to her Mother—that Letter is as full of Pictures as this
Chinese Paper."
After ruminating on it a While longer, he began again, with:
"Gatty ought to marry the Squire."
"Oh Father! his Son, if you please!"
"How do you know the Son is a single Man?"
"Nay, how do we know the Squire is a Widower? He's too old."
"Perhaps she won't marry either," said Prue.
25. "Perhaps not, Mrs. Prue, but let me tell you, neither you nor your
Sister could have writ that Letter."
"Well, Father, I suppose a Woman does not get married for writing a
Letter. For my Part, I don't see much in it. Anybody, I suppose, could
write, if they had Anything to write about."
"No, that don't follow—it's a non sequitur, as the Scholars say."
"I don't set up for a Scholar, not I," said Prue, "I never was so good
a Hand at my Pen as Patty; but I worked the best Sampler, for all
that."
"Well," says my Father, "say, when you write to her, Patty, that I
don't care how often I pay a Shilling for such a Voice from the
Basket as that. I wish she'd send us one every Week."
It indeed was Something curious, how my Father's Fancy was hit by
this Letter, which he got me to read to him many Evenings following.
What was more remarkable, Mr. Fenwick praised it too, though after
a more temperate Manner. He called it easy Writing. Now, sure, what
is easy, is not so meritorious as what is difficult! And he added it was
almost as good as some of the Letters in the Spectator; which,
everybody must own, was immoderate. Gatty could historify plain
enough what passed before her own Eyes and was heard by her
own Ears; but she could not frame a Sentence that required some
Exertion of the Mind to follow; which, I take it, is the Perfection of
good Writing; at least, I know that's the Way with our best Authors.
And no Shame to her for it: Women are not to be blamed for not
shining in what is out of their Province; and she spelt perfectly well,
and wrote a neat, flowing Hand, which had found Plenty of Practice
under Lady Betty; only, to set her up with the Amandas and
Dorindas that corresponded with Sir Richard Steele; why, the Thing
was clearly preposterous.
Meanwhile, Mr. Fenwick continued to find his Way down to us most
Evenings, with his Book in his Hand; and I must say he made the
Time pass very pleasantly and swiftly; but though he read quite loud
enough for such a small Company, 'twas evident to himself as well
26. as to us, that his Voice would by no means yet fill a Church; besides
which, his Breath soon became short, and a red Spot would come on
his Cheek; which, whenever my Mother noticed, she always made
him shut his Book, and would talk about Anything that chanced,
rather than let him over-tire himself. Meanwhile, he heard Nothing,
as far as I could glean, of Mr. Caryl: I know he got no Letters, nor
received any Visitor; and that, I think, tended to make the red Spot
infix itself on his Cheek. I pitied him heartily—"Hope deferred
maketh the Heart sick"—but yet it was a Matter I could not presume
to express Sympathy with him upon; nor was I qualified to allay any
of his Uneasiness. But I kept anxiously looking out for Mr. Caryl's
entering the Shop. One Forenoon, Lady Betty's Man, Mr. James,
came in; and, says he, "Your Servant, Mrs. Patty—My Lady is going
to give a grand Masked Ball to-morrow Evening; and it occurred to
me that you and your Sister might like to look on. If so, I can secure
you good Places, where you will see without being seen; and you
will only have to come early, and ask the Hall Porter for Mr. James."
I thanked him, and said it would be a vast Treat to us; and after a
little Talk about Mrs. Gatty, and my offering him some Refreshment,
which he readily selected in the Form of Cherry Brandy and
Macarons, he went away.
29. Chapter IX.
Lady Betty's Masquerade.
Prudence was mighty pleased to hear of our Engagement, as it would
afford her a near View of the gay World, which was what she had
long been desiring. After the Shop was closed, we set forth,
attended by Peter, who was also to see us safe back; and on
reaching the Square, we descried the House directly by the lighted
Flambeaux.
Both the private and public Entrance were already in Commotion;
but we asked the Hall Porter for Mr. James, who presently appeared,
still in Deshabille. "You have taken me at my Word," said he smiling,
"Your Coming is of the earliest, and I dare not let you go up-Stairs
yet, so you must wait awhile in the Servants' Hall, till the Company
begin to arrive."
I was never in a Servants' Hall of that Description before; and I must
say that it afforded me Matter and Leisure for several Reflections.
Servants, Pastry-Cooks—Men and Boys, and so forth, were bustling
in and out, and we were pushed about a good Deal till we got into a
quiet Corner behind the Clock. It struck me that the Pleasures of the
Quality were purchased at the Price of a good Deal of Immorality in
their Dependents. Many a Glass of Wine did I see swallowed on the
Sly; many a Tart and Custard whipt off and hastily eaten in Corners.
One would have thought, in a great House like this, Fragments of
Dainties had been so common that they would have been no
Temptations; but doubtless the poor Servants had been so
overwrought and debarred of their natural Rest and regular
Refreshments, that their Strength required a little keeping up, for
they had an arduous Evening before them. The Maids flirted and
jested; the Men used intemperate Language; in and out among
30. them all sailed my Lady Housekeeper from Time to Time, as proud
as a Dutchess, and in a Head and Primers that a Dutchess had
probably worn, before they were a little soiled.
By-and-by the Bustle increases. Mr. James comes in, superbly
attired, and smilingly offers us Tarts and Tokay; but, though pressed,
we declined. Then he beckoned us to follow him, and piloted us into
a brilliant Ante-room where, behind some huge Orange Trees in
Wooden Tubs, he found us Seats that commanded a Vistoe of the
two Drawing-rooms beyond. Sure, the King's Majesty could scarce
dwell in greater State. I think that neither Whitehall, Windsor, nor
Hampton Court could ever have made a greater Show. The Ante-
Chamber Hangings were blue Velvet and Silver, the Drawing-room
that came next beyond was amber Satin and Gold; the Chamber
beyond that was hung with Goblin Tapestry. Also there were some
large Mirrours, in which one might behold one's self from Head to
Foot.
I had very little Notion of what a Masked Ball was really like, but I
concluded the Company being attired as Monarchs, Roman Senators,
and Potentates of various Descriptions, would be sufficiently
possessed with their imaginary Dignities to display Gestures and
Deportment of a corresponding Sort, which would doubtless be very
majestical. And these again would be relieved by Light-Comedy
Parts, which, well supported, would be humorous and diverting.
As, let People assemble as late as they will, some one must still be
first, so it was on the present Occasion. A little Man, gaudily attired,
entered with a good Deal of Flutter and Importance, who, as soon
as he found the Apartments empty, exchanged his Strut for his
ordinary Gait, took off his Mask and put it on again several times,
perambulated the Saloons, peeped into everything, examined
himself again and again before the Mirrours, acted a little in Dumb-
Show, sat down before one of them, and finally curled himself up on
a Settee and dropped asleep.
I wonder how much the Expectation of Pleasure makes up the real
Amount of Pleasure apportioned to us in this Life. The Pleasure itself
31. continually disappoints; the Expectation of it has often Something
troubled and impatient; so that either Way there's perpetual Alloy.
Prudence and I were now mighty anxious for the Company. A Group
at length entered, consisting of Maids of Honour and Courtiers of
Queen Elizabeth's Time, very much furbelowed and bedizened, who
believed themselves the first till they espied the little Man on the
Settee, when there were some small Jokes made about Cymon and
Iphigenia, Milton and the Italian Lady, Sleeping Beauty in the Wood,
and so forth. Then the Ladies settled their Ruffs at the Mirrours, and
sailed up and down; and one of them walked through Part of a
Minuet without Music with a Gentleman she called Sir Christopher
Hatton, who pointed his Toes extremely well. Then one of them said,
"My Mask makes my Face so hot!" "And red too," said the other;
"but what will it be by-and-by?" "I wonder if Harry will come," says
one; "I'll lay any Wager I shall find him out."—"I'll lay any Wager you
won't," says the other. Thought I, is this the Way Maids of Honour
used to talk in the Days of good Queen Bess? Well, perhaps it may
be.
Just then the little Man woke up, rubbing his Eyes, and saying
drowsily, "John, my hot Water at seven ..." on which the Ladies
tittered, and he woke up, looked about, and probably felt foolish.
Now the Musicians came, and took their Places, and began to tune
up; and Prue whispered to me, "How delightful!" Indeed, the Music
was, or seemed to me, first-rate, and I enjoyed it as much as
anything; yet at length became inured to it, and scarce more
attentive than to a common Street Band; and finally wished the Men
would not play so loud, for it prevented my hearing what People
were saying. The Ball-Rooms now began to fill fast; and were soon
crowded with Jews, Turks, and Saracens, Nuns, Monks, and Friars,
Goddesses, Shepherdesses, and Milkmaids, Pulcinelloes,
Mountebanks, and Ministers of State. Their Dresses were excessive
fine, and I almost trembled to think of the Expense People had put
themselves to for the Amusement of one Night; however, that was
all for the good of Trade—if so be they paid their Bills.
32. As for supporting their Characters, there was scarce an Attempt at it;
the utmost that the greater Part of 'em did was to say, in little
squeaking Voices, "You don't know me!" "I know you!" This seemed
to me stupider than Child's-Play; and I was beginning to weary of it,
when Prudence jogged me as a very pretty Figure passed, in striped
Gauze and pink Satin, sprinkled with Flowers, as the Goddess Flora;
and whispered, "Lady Grace Bellair."
Soon after, a smart young Spanish Cavaliero came in, whom she
pronounced to be Mr. Arbuthnot; and a Bashaw with three Tails,
whom she decided upon as Sir Charles Sefton. Whether any of her
Guesses were right, I knew not. By-and-by, Dancing began in the
inner Saloon; and, for the first Time, I had a Glimpse of Lady Betty,
who was the only Woman without a Mask; and when I saw how
great was her Advantage therein over the rest, I wondered how
Persons that evidently thought mainly of outward Appearances could
make themselves such Frights.
By-and-by a singular Couple, Arm in Arm, left the Ball-Rooms for the
Ante-Chamber, dressed like Charles the Second's Courtiers, all but
their Heads; for one had the Head of a Fox, and the other of a
monstrous Goose. The latter said, "Quack!" whenever he was
pushed by the Crowd, which was held an exceeding good Joke, for
Folks cried, "Well done, Goose! Quack again!" and, when he did so,
went into Peals of Laughter. At Length, with his Friend the Fox, he
sat down on a Bench just in Front of our Orange-Trees, exclaiming to
his Companion, "Precious hot Work! Even Popularity may be too
fatiguing."
"I never had enough of it to know that," says the Fox.
"You! Why, you've been steeped in it to the Lips!—among a certain
Coterie at any Rate. You are feigning Modesty, Mr. Fox."
"All I said was, I had never had too much; perhaps, not enough. We
belong to an insatiable Race. By-the-by, I proved myself a Goose To-
Night in choosing to play Fox, for you are by far the more popular."
"And only by saying Quack."
33. "Quackery goes a great Way in this World,—I might have known
'twould be so."
"Monstrous fine Masquerade this!" said the Goose.
"Oh, delightful! Have you made out many People?"
"Why, to tell you the Truth, I've been so observed myself, I've had
no Time to observe others."
"Quack!"
"Sir! name your Hour, Place, and Weapon."
"How quiet and retired is everything in this little Spot! You have
Time to observe now."
"Why did you deny yourself to me Yesterday? I know you were at
Home."
"The Truth is, I was desperately hypped."
"What made you so?"
"Study."
"What were you studying? The natural History of the Fox?"
"No, I was learning some Verses by Heart; and I'll spout them to
you."
"Now then; don't be tedious."
"'Three Things an Author's modest Wishes bound;
My Friendship, and a Prologue, and ten Pound.'"
"Oh, come! that's Pope!"
"Well, and it's my Case too—pretty near. A callow Poetling writes a
Piece, dedicates it to me, and expects me to patronize and print it."
"You? Why, I never saw your Name head a Dedication!"
"Well, Sir, you may shortly—if I find no Way of adroitly declining the
Honour, as I have done similar Favours before."
34. "Why decline?"
"Oh, the Thing's burthensome."
"The ten Pounds may be; but most People consider themselves
honoured, and are willing to pay for an expensive Luxury."
"Well, it's no Luxury to me."
"Don't have it, then."
"How avoid it?"
"By simple Neglect. He can't ask for the ten Pounds, if you forget to
send them."
"No, but he may abuse me."
"If his Abuse is not clever, Nobody will read it. Come, you are
making a Mountain of a Molehill. If he has sent his Poem to you,
send it back 'with Thanks,' or forget to return it altogether, or let a
Spark fall upon it."
"Then a Spark would fall upon me."
"Nay, if none of those Expedients can fit you, you must help yourself
to one. I begin to think you ought to have played Goose, in good
Earnest."
They now fell to talking of the Company, and criticizing their Dresses
and Deportment, but I was too preoccupied with what they had
been saying to attend much to their caustic Remarks; for though
they spoke quietly, and their false Heads somewhat disguised their
Voices, I could not help entertaining an Impression that the Fox was
Mr. Caryl. Was it poor Mr. Fenwick, then, he alluded to so
unhandsomely? Oh, the Hollowness of Worldlings! Why, had I not
with my own Ears heard him commend Mr. Fenwick's Poem to his
Face, and thank him for the Compliment of the Dedication? And yet,
here he was waiving it off, as 'twere, and even hinting that Mr.
Fenwick wanted to be paid for it! whereas I knew he had refused
Money when offered! Oh, the Meanness!... He was jealous, and
envious too, I could make out, of a Man that had writ better Verses
35. than his own; and would fain have them supprest. Well, well, this is
a wicked World we live in; and that's no News neither.
A false Head and a false Heart, thought I, as the Fox walked off with
the Goose. I declare my Hands tingled to pull off that Fox's Head
and expose him; but that would have been witless. I got tired of the
Vanity-Fair long before Prudence did. At length even she had had
enough (and no Wonder, for our Attention had been on the full
Stretch for many Hours, without Refreshment or Change of Posture);
but the Difficulty was, how to steal away; for the Lobbies and grand
Staircase were as thronged as the Ball-Rooms, and we could not in
our plebeian Dresses, and unmasked, attempt going among the
Company; so there we continued to sit, long after we wanted to
come away. At length the Rooms began to thin; and we took
Advantage of a chance Dispersion of the Company to make a sudden
Flight to the back Stairs. I thought I heard Remarks and
Exclamations made, but never looked round; and there, at the Foot
of the back Stairs, stood Peter as pale as Death, thinking he had
missed us, and never should find us. He had passed the Night, of
course, at a Public-House—no good place for him, nor for scores of
others that did the same; and was now waiting with our camelot
Cloaks and Clogs, which he had stowed safely somewhere where he
knew he could find them again. Once equipped, we followed close at
his Heels as he elbowed his Way through a Rabble-Rout of
Chairmen, Link-Boys, Hackney-Coachmen, Pickpockets, and Lookers-
on. It was pouring of Rain, the Pavement shone like Glass, Day was
breaking, and I never heard such an uproar in my Life.... "Lady So-
and-so's Chariot!" echoed from one hoarse Voice to another all along
and round the Corner; and then "Lady So-and-so's Chariot stops the
Way!"—till Lady So-and-so stepped in and drove off.
At length we got quit of it all, and picked our Way Home as we best
could, and a long Way it seemed! We had too much to do in minding
our Dresses, to have Leisure for talking. As we got towards the Five
Fields we met plenty of Market-Carts; and now and then we heard
the shrilly Cry of some poor little Chimney-Sweep. Once at Home,
we were soon in Bed and asleep; and I awoke nearly at my usual
36. Time, chilly and yawnish, but Prue continued sleeping, and I did not
wake her.
I was not down quite as soon as usual, after all, and the Milk and
Bread were behind Time; and, of Course, Mr. Fenwick did not get his
Chocolate as soon as usual. When he heard what had made me late,
he looked grave. I said, "Sure, Sir, there was no Harm in looking
on?" He said, "Well, I don't know.... It is dangerous to attend not
merely Places of pernicious but of doubtful Amusement. Do not your
Feelings this Morning tell you that there was Something unsound
and unsafe in the Revelry of last Night? And if so in the Case of
mere Spectators, how much more in that of actual Participators? and
of all those poor People, no voluntary Promoters of it, who only
obeyed Orders, and got no Pleasure at all, but what was allied to
Dishonesty and Intemperance? I don't want to be overstrict; but am
I right or wrong, think you, Mrs. Patty?" And I was obliged to own
that I believed he was in the Right on't.
As for Prue, she was fit for Nothing all Day; but she would hear of
no Wrong in what had to her been so delightful. So I left her to
amuse my quiet Mother with her lively Chat, and attended to the
Shop myself.
38. Chapter X.
Tom's Presents.
I was sitting behind the Counter, when a smart-looking, sunburnt
young Man of about two-and-twenty, attired as a Sailor, came into
the Shop. He said, "Hallo, Patty! how are you?" I said, "Why, Tom!
can it be you? I thought you had been in China!"
"I have been there," says he, "true enough; more-by-Token, here's a
China Orange for you;" and clapped one into my Hand with such
Force that it went near to go through it.
"How are you all?" said he; "I'm glad to see you, and I hope you're
glad to see me."
"Oh yes, very glad, Tom; pray walk into the Parlour—we are all at
Home."
"How are you, Uncle?" says he, so loud and sudden that he made
my Father jump. "And you, Aunt!"—kissing her. "And you!" kissing
Prue too.
"'Manners, Jack!'" says my Father, quoting Gatty's Letter.
"My Name's Tom, Uncle, not Jack, though I suppose you meant Jack
Tar. Well! so here you all are! I've only just landed—Didn't forget
one of you in foreign Lands; I've brought my Aunt a Monkey."
"A nasty Beast!" cries my Father; "we won't have him here, Tom!
He'll break all my China."
"Well, Uncle, I thought she might do a little Damage that Way, ('tis
the prettiest little Creature you ever saw; her Ears are bored, and
her Name's Jessy!) So I brought you, Sir, a Tea-Service, to cover
39. Breakages; the Cups and Saucers fitting into each other; and the
Teapot, no bigger than this Orange, fitting in o' Top; the whole
Concern packs in a Cylinder no bigger than a Spice-Box."
"Dear Tom," says my Mother, nervously, "we've more Tea-Services
already than we should know what to do with, if we did not keep a
genteel Kind of Tea-Garden for the Quality."
"But as you do, Ma'am, won't it be acceptable? Or otherwise, won't
you want Jessy to break it? She's the prettiest little Dear you can
imagine, the Darling of the whole Ship. Well! it seems you're each
discontented with the other's Presents;—my Uncle don't like your
having the Monkey, and you don't like his having the Crockery. Then
I'll tell you what I'll do—chop and change. I'll take your Presents
down to my Father and Mother, and you shall have theirs. I've
bought you a Pair of Slippers, Prue, but of course they're too big."
And out he pulled a Pair of little Chinese Slippers that might have
pinched Cinderella.
"I'm sure you can't wear them, Prue," said I.
"I'm sure I shan't try," said she, jerking her Chin.
"Well, Patty, since I could find you Nothing better, I've brought you a
Feather Fan with an Ivory Handle."
"Thank you, Tom!" said I; "it will do nicely to flap the Flies off the
Pastry."
"And since you, Aunt, will not have the Monkey, you must be content
with some Gunpowder Tea."
"I shall like that a great deal better, Tom, I assure you. The only Sort
of Gunpowder I approve."
Here Tom pulled out of his Pocket what looked like a Mahogany
Rule, about nine Inches long. "Now, Sir," says he to my Father,
"what's that?"
"I can't for the Life of me tell," says my Father, after eyeing it
askance and then handling it.
40. "I knew you couldn't! See," (unfolding it,) "it's a Boot-jack!"
"A queer one, Tom!"
"And what is it now? Why, a Reading-Desk! What is it now? A
Cribbage Board!"
"Ha! Tom, that's ingenious."
"Ingenious, Uncle? I believe it is! What is it now? A Ruler. What is it
now? A pair of Snuffers."
"Ha, ha, ha!"
"Ah, I knew you'd laugh—what is it now? An eighteen Inch Rule.
What is it now? A Pair of Nut-crackers. What is it now? Two
Candlesticks. What is it now? A Picquet-Board. What is it now! A
Lemon-squeezer. That's for you, Uncle. That's all the Changes. It will
go into your Coat Pocket."
"It shall go there, Tom! 'Tis a real Curiosity."
"I knew you'd say so, Sir. I wasn't sure about the Monkey, but I
knew you'd like this. Jessy shall go with me Home, but I shan't go
there till next Week, because they don't know we've come up the
River, so I shall stay a little here first."
"But, Tom, I don't know how we can take you in, for we have a
Lodger."
"Oh my Goodness! Nay, don't put the poor Fellow to Inconvenience
on my Account, pray."
"Certainly not!" cried Prue, indignantly. "Why, Mr. Fenwick is quite a
Gentleman!"
"Oh, is he so?" said Tom, bursting out laughing, "and pray, what am
I? 'Sir, you're no Gentleman!'—is that it, Prue?"
"Why, you're Tom, and that's all."
"And that's enough too, isn't it? Oh, I can swing my Hammock
anywhere. I wouldn't put Anyone to the smallest Inconvenience.
41. Would sooner catch my Death of Cold, or lose every Shot in my
Locker."
"Tom, you're such a thoughtless, good-tempered Fellow, we must
pack you in somewhere."
"Oh, no, Uncle! don't think of it. I'll be off to the Three Bells. Only,
there are two Belles here I like better."
"But, Tom, I shouldn't like you to get your Pocket picked."
"And I," said my Mother, "should not like you to take your Death of
Cold."
"Never caught Cold in my Life, Ma'am, that was only Flummery; a
Sailor has Something else to do than keep sneezing and blowing his
Nose. And I can leave my Money and Watch here."
"Prudence," said I, "you and I could sleep in the little blue Closet."
"Why shouldn't Tom," said Prudence, "now the other Door is un-
nailed? We should have to move all our Things."
"Thank you, Patty," said Tom, "you were always as sweet as Syrup
to me. I shall like the blue Closet a precious deal the best, I can
assure you, instead of being mast-headed."
So thus it was arranged; and the light-hearted Fellow was soon
established among us, spinning long Yarns, as he called them, about
John Chinaman.
The next Day, he was absent for some Hours, and when he came
back, he said he wanted Prue and me to go with him in the Evening
to see a Conjuror. Prudence, for some Whim, would not go; but I
accompanied him with Pleasure. The Way Tom went on, however,
spoiled my Evening's Entertainment.
The Conjurer was dressed somewhat in the Oriental Style, and I
should have taken him for a real Foreigner, only that Tom whispered
to me that was all Sham. In Fact, he began by addressing us in very
good English, and saying that the Marvels he was about to display
were unaccompanied by any Fraud or Deception, and that any Lady
42. or Gentleman who doubted his Word might come and sit at his
Elbow. "I accept your Invitation!" cries Tom; and immediately "slued
himself round," as he expressed it, round a Pillar between us and
the Stage, slipped down it as if he had been a Monkey, and was at
the Man's Side in a Moment. The Conjurer looked sufficiently
annoyed, but not more so than I felt, for it seemed to me that the
Eyes of all the Audience were alternately on Tom and me, as indeed
they well might be. Luckily for my Comfort and Respectability, he left
me sitting next to a very steady-looking elderly Couple, the nearest
of which said, "Never mind, young Lady, we'll take Care of you." I
said, "It was so very thoughtless of him to leave me!" and felt quite
uncomfortable. "It was very thoughtless," said the good Woman's
Husband, smiling, "I should think, Miss, he's in the sea-faring Line."
I said, "Yes, Sir," and we then began to attend to what was going
on, on the Stage; but I sat on Thorns all the While.
Tom, quite unembarrassed by the Publicity of his Position, kept his
Eyes fixed on the Conjurer's Proceedings with an Air of lively
Interest. The two or three first Tricks drew from him such
Exclamations as "Capital! Excellent!" which appeared somewhat to
mollify the Cunning Man; but at length, when Something was done
which seemed very surprising, Tom coolly remarked, "Ah! I see how
that is managed," in a Voice as clear as a Bell, that was heard all
over the House. The Conjurer shook his Head at him and frowned;
but went on to Something else. Again Tom was pleased; again he
clapped as heartily as any. The next Trick he marked his Approval of
by saying, "Very neat, very neat." At Length came the grand Feat of
the Evening, which was swallowing a Carving-Knife. Everybody's
Attention was riveted, when Tom said in an Expostulatory Voice,
"But, my dear good Fellow, how can you say there is no Fraud or
Deception?" "Sir, I defy you to prove any," says the Conjurer. "I will
prove it directly," says Tom, "for I have often seen the Thing better
done in India." "Sir, you are an impertinent Fellow," says the
Conjurer; "I must insist upon it that you withdraw. If you will not
retire of your own Accord, you shall do so on Compulsion, for it is
highly indecorous to interrupt a public Performance in this Manner."
43. "Well, but why did you ask me?" said Tom. "I didn't!" says the
Conjurer. "You did," says Tom. "Didn't he?" to the whole House.
"Knock him down! Throw him over!" cried several Voices. "Give him
into Custody!" "Nay," says Tom, "I don't want to make any
Disturbance:—if you wish me to go, I'll go, for I never like to put
People to the least Inconvenience, and I'm sure if I'd known you
didn't mean to be taken at your Word, I would have stayed where I
was!" Saying which, he swung himself up the Pillar again, and was
by my Side the next Moment, looking as merry and good-tempered
as ever. But I was so penetrated with Shame, that I could not bear
to look up, but begged him to let us go Home, to which he acceded,
though with much Surprise. The next Morning, I was giving my
Father and Mother an Account of my uncomfortable Evening, when
Tom, coming in to Breakfast, says, "Who is that pale, lanky Chap I
met just now upon the Stairs?"
"Tom!—" said Prudence, very indignantly, "it was Mr. Fenwick!"
"How should I know who he was?" rejoined Tom unconcernedly, "I
thought he might be a Thief."
"A Thief, indeed!" muttered Prue, as she buttered her Roll.
"Well, Prue," said he briskly, "I gave Patty a Treat last Night, so now
it's your Turn."
"You did give Patty a Treat, indeed, my Lad," says my Father
ironically.
"I'm glad she found it so, Uncle," says he, quite cheerfully, "so, To-
Night, Prudence, I'll take you to the Play."
"I don't know that I want to go," says Prudence.
"Oh! very well, then I'll take Patty."
"Thank you, Tom," said I, "but I don't quite approve of Theatrical
Amusements."
"You don't? Oh my Goodness!—And do you disapprove of them,
Prue?"
44. "No, not I," said Prue, "I think Patty more nice than wise."
"Oh, then, come along like a good Girl, and let's go together."
"But, Tom," says my Father, "I shall put a Spoke in that Wheel,
unless you promise you won't forsake her as you did Patty last
Night."
"I'll promise you a Dozen Times, Uncle, if you think that will make it
more secure."
"No, if you promise once in earnest, that will do."
"I do promise."
"But, Tom," put in my dear Mother, "I share Patty's Objections to the
Play-House, and I think two such young Heads as you and Prue are
hardly to be trusted there. In short, I would rather she did not go."
Prue pouted a little on this—My Father began to chafe.
"Fiddlesticks, my Dear," says he, "you and I often went to a Play
together when we were young, and why shouldn't they?"
"Why, my Dear, as I am no longer young, I see Things in a different
Light."
"It may not be a truer Light, though, Mrs. Honeywood, and you can't
expect young Folks to see Things differently from what you yourself
did when you were young. Tut, tut! let the Girl go, and say no more
about it."
"But, Mr. Honeywood...."
"But, Madam!" (very loud and angry,) "haven't I said it should be so,
and have I a Right to be minded?"
Here my Mother turned pale and trembled, which I never could bear
to see; and I was going to urge Prue and Tom, in a low Voice, to
give up their Treat rather than foment a Family Quarrel, when I was
called into the Shop, which prevented my knowing how the Matter
ended. Presently Tom went through the Shop, out of the House; and
the next Time I could look into the Parlour, it was empty.
45. Prue, however, was singing about the House, so I argued that Peace
had been restored somehow; most likely by her giving up the Play.
By-and-by she comes in all Smiles, and says, "I'll take up Mr.
Fenwick's Chocolate," and, before I could say a Word, took the little
Tray out of my Hand and was off with it.
I had forgotten all about this, when, some Time after, happening to
go up Stairs for my Knotting-Bag, in passing the open Door of Mr.
Fenwick's Sitting-Room, I saw him and Prue standing at the Window,
their Backs towards me, in earnest Conversation; he holding her by
the Hand, and she apparently in Tears. This gave me the oddest
Feeling I ever had in my Life—I went up into my Room, sat down on
the first Chair I came to, and could hardly turn my Breath. I could
not think what had come over me! Presently I got up and tried to
drink some cold Water, but could hardly get it down. It seemed to
me as if I could not think; and yet there was a great, dull, dark,
unwelcome Thought in my Head all the while!
I leant my Head against the Wall; and having quieted myself a little,
rose to go down Stairs. Just then, Prue came in, and looked as if she
had hoped to find the Room unoccupied. I said, "You've been crying,
Prue!" She said, sharply, "No, I haven't!—and what if I had?"—I said,
"Only that I should have been sorry to know that you were in
Sorrow." She said, "Tears are shed for Joy, sometimes, as well as
Sorrow, are not they?" "Certainly," said I; and turned away. "What
could make you think I had been crying, Patty?" says she hurriedly.
"Well," I said, "I thought you might be vexed about the Play."—"The
Play? oh, that was given up before Tom went out," said she—"Of
course it did vex me, and I think it was unkind of my Mother not to
let me go." "You know her Motives are always kind," said I. "Well, of
course I do," says she, still crossly, "but don't harp any more on such
a disagreeable Subject. If you do, I shall run away from you." And
away she ran.
Then it was not the Play; then it was not about Anything connected
with Tom, that had made her cry! I'd thought as much! "Tears are
shed for Joy as well as for Sorrow," sometimes, though not very
46. often. I sat down again, and turned my Face to the Wall, with my
Head resting against it, and cried bitterly. Mine were Tears of
Sorrow, not of Joy!
48. Chapter XI.
The Old Angel.
I do not much like to look back on that Time:—I was under a Cloud;
a very dark one; and saw, heard, and felt Everything under its
Shadow. I did not seem to love Prue much, nor to believe she loved
me; I took Pleasure in Nothing, and did Nothing well.
I wonder, now, how I could have been so silly. I am very glad People
could not see into my Heart, nor guess what was passing in my
tossed and fretted Mind. Oh! if our Neighbours sometimes lay to our
Charge Things that we know not, how often might they lay to our
Charge Things that they know not! They think us on good and
pleasant Terms with them, maybe, when we are full of Envy,
Jealousy, and Suspicion. They utter the careless Word and laugh the
cheerful Laugh, little guessing that their lightest Look, Word and
Tone are being weighed in a Balance.
I suppose my troubled Mind tinctured a Letter I wrote, at about this
Time, to Gatty; for in her Reply to it, which followed very quickly,
she said:
"I think I can see by your Writing that you are not well, nor
in good Spirits. How earnestly do I wish, dear Mrs. Patty,
you would come down to us here, and try the effect of a
little Change. Yours is a very toilsome, anxious Life, though
you carry it off so well; always afoot, always thinking of
others! But this may be overdone, and I think you have
overdone it now; so come down, pray, before you get any
worse. You know your Way to the Old Angel, dear Patty!
and though the Days are so very short now and the
Weather cold, the Roads are in fine Order and you shall
49. have a warm Fireside. My Mother will be more joyed to see
you than I can express, and so will my Brothers and Sisters,
and I need not say how acceptable your Company will be to
me! My Month's Holiday is up, and I have writ to Lady
Betty; but she returns no Answer, and perhaps considers
me no longer her Servant. I cannot say I shall fret much if
it prove so; but the Fact must shortly be ascertained; as in
that Case I must seek another Service. How I should like to
go to that reverend, comfortable old Mrs. Arbuthnot!
Perhaps, when I send her Aprons, I might write a respectful
Line, saying I am in want of a Situation. Hers would be a
vastly different Service, I fancy, from my Lady Betty's. And
yet, do you know, that strange Sister of mine, Pen, is
certain she should like to live with my Lady! Dear Mrs.
Patty, I must abruptly conclude, as we are preparing to
spend the Evening at Roaring House. It is a good Step, and
there will be no Moon, but we shall do well with Lantern
and Pattens, and are not fear'd at Hob-Goblin.
"I depend on your coming, so name the Day; and wrap up
very warm, or else come inside the Coach. Tell the
Coachman to set you down at the Mile-Stone, just before
he reaches the Green Hatch; and we will be there to meet
you. There have been no Highway Robberies these three
Weeks, and only one Overturn, so don't be afraid."
"Your Affectionate,
"Gertrude Bowerbank."
"Roaring House," slowly repeated my Father, knocking the Ashes out
of his Pipe, when I had read him the greater Part of this Letter. "It
must be a very queer Place, I think, that has such a queer Name....
A roaring House!—hang it if I should like to live in it!—A House that
roars, or that has been accustomed to roar, very likely in the old
Days of the roaring Cavaliers!—A monstrous queer Name indeed!—
Aye, aye, many a Hogshead of strong Ale has been swilled in its
50. great, rambling Kitchen by roaring Boys, I warrant ye—A great,
rambling, scrambling, shambling House, with Doors and Casements
loose on their Hinges, that creak in the Wind, and with loose Tiles on
the great gabled Roofs, and Swallows' Nests in the great, windy
Chimneys, and creaking Boards in the uneven Floors and rotten old
Staircases, and dark Corners, and dark Cup-Boards, and windy Key-
Holes and winding Passages. That's my Notion of Roaring House."
"Is that where Gatty lives?" said Prudence heedlessly.
"No, where she was going to drink Tea; with Lantern and Pattens,"
said my Father—"Didn't you hear Patty read? Ha! Time was, I
wouldn't have minded being her Foot-Boy."
"But, Patty," said my dear Mother anxiously, "she does not think you
are well, Love. Do you wish to go to Larkfield?"
"Why, certainly, Mother, it would be a great Treat; only I don't see
how I could well be spared."
"Oh, we can spare you well enough," cries Prudence; "you won't be
missed!"
"Thank you," said I abruptly; and thought I would not go.
"We will manage to spare you very well, my dear Love," said my
dear Mother—"We will contrive so that you shall not be missed."
Just the same Thing, only said how differently! I thought I would go.
A kind Word spoken in Season, oh! how good is it!
In short, I decided to go, for I felt I wanted a Change; and I was
hourly in dread of saying in my present irritable State, something to
Prudence which I should afterwards be bitterly sorry for. I saw she
wanted me to go; I knew she could, if she would, supply my Place
for a little While; and I hoped after a short Absence to return with a
new Set of Ideas, and find all Things straight.
So I wrote to Gatty, to name my Day, and began to pack up. When
Mr. Fenwick heard I was going, he looked very much surprised; but
said Nothing. I was glad of the one and the other. I liked his being
51. surprised, and I liked his making no common-place Speeches. In the
mean Time, he had, I knew, addressed a Letter to Mr. Caryl; and I
found, rather unexpectedly, he had got an Answer;—in this Way.
I had carried up his Chocolate, and found him with his Elbow on the
Mantel-Piece, and his Thumb and Fore-Finger pinching his Chin very
hard, while he frowned anxiously over a Billet he was reading.
"This is very strange,—very provoking!" cried he, looking round to
me for Sympathy—"I don't know why I should trouble you to hear
about it, Mrs. Patty, but I am vexed!"
"I should like to hear about it if you please, Sir," said I quietly.
"Why,—the Matter is this. I sent Something I had been writing,—
Something I had taken a good deal of Pains with,—to Mr. Paul Caryl.
He seemed a good deal pleased with it, took it up quite warmly,
promised to put it in Train for me and give it his Patronage. A long
Interval has ensued, without Anything coming of it; at length I
venture to write him a gentle Reminder; and he, with a hundred
thousand Protestations and Apologies, writes to say that 'how to
excuse himself he knows not, but the plain Fact is, a Spark falling on
my Manuscript, has utterly consumed it.'"
"I don't believe it!" cried I with sudden Passion, "I don't believe one
Word of it!"
"Why, it's hard to believe—" begins Mr. Fenwick with an aggrieved
Air.
"It's not to be believed!" interrupted I vehemently; "it's a Falsehood,
if ever one was told! A trumped up, vamped up Story!"
"Hush, Mrs. Patty—"
"No, Sir, I can't hush, I know it's as I say: I'm sure of it! Oh, the
Meanness!—"
"My dear Patty!—"
"It's abominable, Sir! He, call himself a Gentleman?"
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