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"I hope for your sake you haven't been saying to anybody else what you said to me just now." Mr. Grummit shook his head. "Not a word," he faltered. "That's all right, then," said Mr. Evans. "I shouldn't like to be hard on a neighbour; not that we shall be neighbours much longer." Mr. Grummit, feeling that a reply was expected of him, gave utterance to a feeble "Oh!" "No," said Mr.
Evans, raising the lid, struck a few careless chords. "Showing off," explained Mrs. Grummit, with a half turn; "and she's got fingers like carrots." "It's a disgrace to Mulberry Gardens to 'ave a copper come and live in it," said the indignant Grummit; "and to come and live next to me! that's what I can't get over. To come and live next door to a man wot has been fined twice, and both times wrong.
Grummit, breathing furiously. "Me? Nonsense," said the other, easily. "I was having tea in the parlour with my wife and my mother-in-law, and my brother Joe and his young lady." "Any more of 'em?" demanded the hapless Mr. Grummit, aghast at this list of witnesses for an alibi. "It ain't a bad pail, if you look at it properly," said the constable.
Grummit made no reply, but, throwing appearances to the winds, stepped to the window until her nose touched, as a walnut sideboard with bevelled glass back was tenderly borne inside under the personal supervision of Police-Constable Evans. "They'll be 'aving a pianner next," said the indignant Mr. Grummit, peering from the depths of the room.
"They've got one," responded his wife; "there's the end if it stickin' up in the van." Mr. Grummit advanced and regarded the end fixedly. "Did you throw all them tin cans and things into their yard wot I told you to?" he demanded. "He picked up three of 'em while I was upstairs," replied his wife. "I 'eard 'im tell her that they'd come in handy for paint and things."
"Wot about that burglary?" repeated Mr. Grummit, with a scowl. "I don't believe you ever saw a burglar." Mr. Evans rose and stretched himself gracefully. "You'd better run indoors, my good man," he said, slowly. "Telling all them lies about burglars," continued the indignant Mr. Grummit, producing his newspaper and waving it.
He was off duty for four days, and, the Tunwich Gazette having devoted a column to the affair, headed "A Gallant Constable," modestly secluded himself from the public gaze for the whole of that time. To Mr. Grummit, who had read the article in question until he could have repeated it backwards, this modesty was particularly trying. The constable's yard was deserted and the front door ever closed.
He was ill arf the night, pore chap; but, come to think of it, it'll make 'im a good witness for my innocence." "If I wasn't a policeman," said Mr. Evans, speaking with great deliberation, "I'd take hold o' you, Bob Grummit, and I'd give you the biggest hiding you've ever had in your life." "If you wasn't a policeman," said Mr. Grummit, yearningly, "I'd arf murder you."
"I should keep it if I was you; unless the owner offers a reward for it. It'll hold enough water for your wants." Mr. Grummit flung indoors and, after wasting some time concocting impossible measures of retaliation with his sympathetic partner, went off to discuss affairs with his intimates at the Bricklayers' Arms. The company, although unanimously agreeing that Mr.
Why, for two pins I'd go in and smash 'is pianner first and 'im after it. He won't live 'ere long, you take my word for it." "Why not?" inquired his wife. "Why?" repeated Mr. Grummit. "Why? Why, becos I'll make the place too 'ot to hold him. Ain't there enough houses in Tunwich without 'im a-coming and living next door to me?" For a whole week the brain concealed in Mr.
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