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William Weatherall being by; whether we should show more delicacy, and a truer sense of respect for Will's wife, by treating Becky with our customary chiding before her, or by an unusual deferential civility paid to Becky as to a person of great worth, but thrown by the caprice of fate into a humble station.
There were difficulties, I remember, on both sides, which you did me the favour to state with the precision of a lawyer, united to the tenderness of a friend. William Weatherall has married Mrs. Cotterel's maid. But to take it in its truest sense, you will see, my dear F., that news from me must become history to you; which I neither profess to write, nor indeed care much for reading.
We meet a Will Weatherall in "Distant Correspondents," page 120; but I have not been able to discover more concerning either. Alice W n. See note to "Dream Children." See the musical rhyming letter to him from Lamb, May 17, 1817. Cowden Clarke, and a great friend of Lamb.
Weatherall, sir, promised, personally, that if I called again, he'd kick me down the steps. Bommaney groaned. 'What do you want with me? he asked again. They were standing by this time outside the doors of a public-house, and the wind-driven rain was pelting down heavily. 'I thought, sir said Hornett; 'I'm very hard pressed, sir. The dog-like, propitiatory smile never varied.
I missed also what followed, leading up to the woman's endearing remark: "This 'ere little Rosy, she's a reg'lar gal for cherries!" The neighbour seemed to say something; then the husband; then the neighbour again. And at that there came a burst of laughter, loudest from the woman, and Mr. Weatherall asked: "Didn't you never hear that afore?"
But ten months hence your envy or your sympathy would be as useless as a passion spent upon the dead. What a wild improbable banter I put upon you, some three years since of Will Weatherall having married a servant-maid!
Then, however, some other homeward-goer overtook the little family. For the talk grew suddenly louder, the woman beginning cheerily: "Hullo, Mr. Weatherall! 'Ow's your poor wife?... I didn't see as 'twas you, 'till this here little Rosy said...." What Rosy had said I failed to catch.
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