Belford's Magazine, Vol 2, December 1888. Various

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СКАЧАТЬ Rutherford, in a white heat of wrath, rushed from the house, he found Plowden in the garden, jumping from one foot to the other with an agility surprising in a man of his age, and vigorously slapping his sides with his arms, as if embracing an invisible friend.

      "What are you doing?" asked the lawyer.

      "Trying to keep myself warm. Why do you follow me?"

      "Because I was ordered to – "

      "It is useless; leave me to my fate."

      "Hello! Who's that?" exclaimed Rutherford, as he caught the sound of a man's running. "Hello!"

      "'Ullo, yourself," came back in the unmistakable English accent of Honey, who quickly came up, panting.

      "It's Bow-Bells," said Rutherford. "Why are you running so?"

      "To keep warm. I've run hup an' down the road, hand I cawn't see no signs of hany hinn or public."

      "No; there is none near. But come with me. I am still your host, and I think I can make you at least measurably comfortable for the night in the billiard-house."

      As they eagerly started to follow Rutherford, glad of any shelter, a voice was heard behind them hallooing, "Hi, there!" and brought them to a halt.

      "Ha! ha!" laughed Rutherford, "if it isn't Wildfen! There has evidently been a general mutiny among the women."

      "Where are you all going?" asked Wildfen, joining them. "Take me along, wherever it is."

      "Come on quickly, then," replied Rutherford, leading the way, like the captain of a small skirmishing party, to the billiard-house.

      It seemed by the flickering light of a match rather a bare, desolate, cheerless sort of place, but they were all too glad to find shelter, to make any complaints. "And now," he continued, having lighted a lamp, "make yourselves as comfortable as you can, while I find Sam and get some things to render our plight a little more endurable."

      "If he could slip our overcoats out of the hall and bring them here," suggested Plowden.

      "Of course he can. Don't be uneasy; you'll be all right in a few minutes."

      "No, we won't," muttered Wildfen, querulously, in an undertone.

      "Of course; we shall be quite jolly, you know," spoke up Honey cheerfully, in reply to Rutherford's encouraging words.

      Plowden said nothing. His soul was precipitated into a depth of gloom, where its only company was a vaguely-formed but terrible demon labelled "Bigamy." It was that presence, even more than the weather, which made him shiver.

      Rutherford was gone but a short time, and when he returned was accompanied by Sam, who bore a load of overcoats and a bottle of some amber fluid that seemed to bestow warmth and animation. The faithful old servant proved himself an able skirmisher. Snatching a pillow from one room and a blanket from another, making prey of a quilt here and a comforter there, he succeeded eventually in getting from the guest-chambers a fair supply of bedding, which he transferred to the billiard-house. He also got in an ample pile of wood, with which Honey skilfully made a rousing fire on the broad, open hearth. Honey, too, utilized the bedding as it was brought in, making as comfortable couches as possible under the circumstances, on a sofa and three chairs for Plowden and Wildfen, and upon the floor for himself. Rutherford dragged from a closet an old hammock that he sometimes used to take a summer afternoon nap in, and said he would sleep in that, with a blanket around him. Honey found another lamp and lighted it. What with the cheery glow of the dancing firelight, the bright lamps, and the colors of the bedding distributed about, the erstwhile dismal room began to seem rather pleasant, and in great measure the happy transformation was due to Honey's readiness and ability in doing things which belonged to his proper sphere of effort.

      "Are we going to bed?" asked Plowden, sadly.

      "I should say not," ejaculated Wildfen. "Why, it isn't more than eight o'clock."

      "I am in no humor for sleep to-night," said Rutherford, moodily.

      "I'm hagreeable for hanythink," remarked Honey, amiably.

      "What do you say to a quiet game of 'draw'?" suggested Wildfen.

      The idea suited Rutherford; Honey knew a little about the game and liked it; and Plowden, though he had some doubt about his ability to play it, upon learning that it was not in the least like whist said he would try. So Sam, when he came in with another load of fire-wood, was despatched to capture a pack of cards from his master's room and a box of gun-wads from the closet where Rutherford's sporting paraphernalia were kept.

      The game was not a lively one, and a gloomy despondency seemed to spread its shadow over the table.

      "This is very far, my friends," remarked Rutherford, "from the pleasant evening I hoped to give you."

      "No matter," sighed Plowden, resignedly; "even this is better than being hanged for bigamy."

      "Oh, pshaw, man! that is not a hanging offence. And you're not even convicted yet. Don't give way so. You'll come out all right."

      "Yes, I suppose we all will – if we don't starve meanwhile," grumbled Wildfen.

      "Oh, no fear of that," laughed Rutherford. "Sam will see to it that we at least sit at the second table."

      "That's what I've been used to," remarked Honey, unthinkingly; and then, recalling himself, seemed to listen for a sharp voice saying in reproof, "William!" After a moment he went on confusedly, "Well, gents. I don't pretend I'm equal to my position among you. Hit was 'er has dragged me hinto hit; I didn't want ter come. But that's hall hover an' done for. She's a good woman, honly I cawn't stand 'er hallways ha-naggink hat me hafore folks, hand ha pickink me hup habout my haitches. Why, hafore she married me, hif I'd ha' dropped ha bushel hof 'em she wouldn't ha' said nothink. Marriage, gents, 'as been a werry big disappintment to yours trewly."

      "My wife," said Wildfen, sullenly, "is the spirit of contradiction personified."

      "And mine of jealousy," added Rutherford.

      "And mine of all that's angelic," moaned Plowden; "therefore I must be torn from her by the rude clutches of the law. Did you observe how sweetly she bore the horrible revelation? She looked like a drooping lily, didn't she, Wildfen?"

      "No," answered that embodied negative; "you did the drooping-lily part of the play yourself. But are we going to stay here all Christmas, while they are having a good time by themselves?"

      "I'm afraid so, unless we sneak back, humbly beg pardon, and persuade them to take pity on us," replied Rutherford.

      "Never!" exclaimed the others as one man, except Plowden, who said that he was tired and would lie down, though he did not suppose he could sleep. So he dropped out of the game and stretched himself on the sofa, where Honey neatly tucked him up. The others played on until gray dawn.

      A little after midnight, Rutherford, having chanced to glance at his watch, grimly wished his companions:

      "Merry Christmas, gentlemen."

      "It isn't," snarled Wildfen.

      Plowden uttered a groan, so long and deep that the others laughed; and after that laugh they seemed to brighten up a little.

      The sound of crunching footsteps in the new-fallen snow was heard outside СКАЧАТЬ