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Updated: June 29, 2025
I dessay it'll wear off, all right; but oh, Mr. Bossom " "Would you mind callin' me Sam? It's more ushual." "Oh, Mr. Sam, this mornin' I'm feelin' it all over. If I got a pailful out o' the canal, now?" "I wouldn' recommend it not 'ereabouts." Sam, eyeing her with his head cocked slightly aside, spoke gently as one coaxing a victim of the drink habit.
"'Ush, an' put on your shirt, an' come 'ome! We'll get Mrs. Mortimer to dry it off by the stove." She helped him on with it, took him by the hand, and led him back unresisting. They reached the canal bank in time to see Sam Bossom leading Old Jubilee down the towpath, on his way to borrow a cart at Ibbetson's.
Miss Sally regarded her with a smile of conscious strength, stern but good-natured. Her gaze wandered past the woman's shoulder, and the smile broadened. Mrs. Huggins saw it broaden, and cast a look behind her, towards the house to see Mr. Bossom, coal-grimed but cheerful, grinning down on her from the front door-step. "It's a trap!" she gasped, shooting a venomous look at Mr. Hucks.
An' the next is, I've seen Sam Bossom an' warned 'im. 'E was standin' outside 'is show, an' not darin' to go in; the reason bein' Mortimer 'ad picked up a girl from the shootin' gallery, that used to belong to 'is company, and 'e an' she an' Mrs. Mortimer are doing the last act of Othello life size an' tuppence coloured, an' Sam says 'e can't look on an' command 'is feelin's.
"She'd be an old bird before she got there, at our pace," Tilda agreed. "But, o' course, Mr. Bossom, if we want to get to Stratford quick, an' you don't, you'll make the pace what you like an' never mind us." "Who said I didn' want to get to Stratford?" he asked almost fiercely, and broke off with a groan.
Fetch me a list of the pious persons that have lent their names to this swindle. You, Mr. Hucks, take me upstairs; I'll explore this den from garret to basement, though it cost my stomach all that by the smell I judge it will. And you, Sam Bossom here's a five-pound note: take it to the nearest pastry-cook's and buy up the stock.
"There ain't anything wrong wi' the place, that I know by," Mr. Bossom admitted. "But I remember another thing he said, because it sounded to me even funnier. He said, 'Sweet swan of Avon upon the banks of Thames, that did so please Eliza and our James. Now what did he mean by that?" Mr. Bossom considered and shook his head. "Some bank-'oliday couple, I reckon; friends of his, maybe.
"Well, maybe we'll 'ave a try to-morrow," she conceded after a while. "But business is business. We must get back to Stratford an' consult Sam Bossom. And then there's a letter to be written to 'Ucks. I promised 'im, you know."
And when the supper protracted by his various arts to the semblance of a banquet of many courses came at length to an end, Mrs. Mortimer dropped a quite untheatrical tear as she embraced them and bade them good-bye. Sam Bossom walked with them to the bridge and there took his leave, promising to meet them faithfully on the morrow by Weston Lock.
By this time smoke was issuing in a steady stream from the stove-pipe above the cabin-top, and presently from within came the hiss and fragrance of bacon frying. Sam Bossom had stepped ashore, and called to the children to help in collecting sticks and build a fire for the tea-kettle. Tilda, used though she was to nomad life, had never known so delightful a picnic.
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