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Boxer, putting his hand over his mouth and making noble efforts to restrain himself; "tchee tch "I s'pose you'd ha' laughed more if I 'ad been bit?" said the glaring Mrs. Gimpson. "Well, who did the dog bite after all?" inquired Mr. Boxer, recovering. "You don't understand," replied Mrs. Gimpson, pityingly; "me being safe up in bed and the door locked, there was no mad dog.
He leaned back in his chair and regarded with intense satisfaction the horrified faces of the group in front. "You you'll go to jail for this," cried Mrs. Gimpson, breathlessly. "What is your first wife's address?" "I decline to answer that question," said her son-in-law. "What is your first wife's address?" repeated Mrs. Gimpson. "Ask the fortune-teller," said Mr.
Gimpson, with a red shawl round her shoulders, asleep in her easy-chair. Mrs. Boxer turned at the clang of the shop bell, and then, with a wild cry, stood gazing at the figure of a man standing in the door-way. He was short and bearded, with oddly shaped shoulders, and a left leg which was not a match; but the next moment Mrs. Boxer was in his arms sobbing and laughing together. Mrs.
Boxer, waggishly, "that was wise of 'im. Most of us could tell fortunes that way." "That's wrong," said Mrs. Gimpson to her daughter, sharply. "Right's right any day, and truth's truth. He said that he knew all about John and what he'd been doing, but he wouldn't tell us for fear of 'urting our feelings and making mischief." "Here, look 'ere," said Mr.
"What did you say the name o' the schooner was?" inquired Mrs. Gimpson. "Pearl," replied Mr. Boxer, with the air of a resentful witness under cross-examination. "And what was the name o' the captin?" said Mrs. Gimpson. "Thomas Henery Walter Smith," said Mr. Boxer, with somewhat unpleasant emphasis. "An' the mate's name?" "John Brown," was the reply. "Common names," commented Mrs.
"But you couldn't. Why, you didn't marry me till eighteen ninety-four." "What's that got to do with it?" inquired the monster, calmly. Mrs. Boxer, pale as ashes, rose from her seat and stood gazing at him with horror-struck eyes, trying in vain to speak. "You villain!" cried Mrs. Gimpson, violently. "I always distrusted you." Gimpson, violently. "I know you did," said Mr. Boxer, calmly.
Gimpson was of the same opinion, and in some haste she reeled off the events of the evening. She had a good memory, and no detail was lost. "Strange, strange," said the venerable Mr. Silver, when he had finished. "He is an ingenious man." "Isn't it true?" inquired his listener. "He says he can prove it. And he is going to find out what you meant by saying you were afraid of making mischief."
Gimpson sniffed and eyed his retreating figure disparagingly; Mrs. Boxer, prompted by her husband, began to set the table for supper. It was a lengthy meal, owing principally to Mr. Boxer, but it was over at last, and after that gentleman had assisted in shutting up the shop they joined the Thompsons, who were waiting outside, and set off for Crowner's Alley. The way was enlivened by Mr.
"It ain't likely I'm going to give myself away like that; besides, it's agin the law for a man to criminate himself. You go on and start your bigamy case, and call old red-eyes as a witness." Mrs. Gimpson gazed at him in speechless wrath and then stooping down conversed in excited whispers with Mrs. Thompson. Mrs. Boxer crossed over to her husband.
You needn't say who I am; say I'm a friend, and tell 'im never to mind about making mischief, but to say right out where I am and what I've been doing all this time. I have my 'opes it'll cure you of your superstitiousness." "We'll go round after we've shut up, mother," said Mrs. Boxer. "We'll have a bit o' supper first and then start early." Mrs. Gimpson hesitated.
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