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These managed their duties so dexterously that Matilda Junk was far from guessing what was going on. Moreover, she informed the detective, who she thought was a commercial gent, that she intended to pay a visit to her sister, Mrs. Tawsey, and demanded the address, which Hurd gave readily enough. He thought that if Matilda knew anything such as the absence of Mrs.
Sylvia, under the charge of Deborah, and escorted by Bart Tawsey, had duly left Gwynne Street, bag and baggage, and she was now established in Rose Cottage, Jubileetown. The house was a small one, and there was not a single rose in the garden around it.
She won't leave Sylvia." "The house is big enough. Bring Mrs. Tawsey also I'm rather anxious to see her. And Sylvia will be a good companion for your mother." So matters were arranged in this way, and when Paul returned to town he went at once to tell Sylvia of the reconciliation.
"Ho," said Deborah, scornfully, "I'd like to see me say 'em to sich a scrub as Bart." But say them she did at the altar, being compelled to do so by the vicar. But when the ceremony was over, the newly-made Mrs. Tawsey took Bart by the arm and shook him. He was small and lean and of a nervous nature, so he quivered like a jelly in his wife's tremendous grip.
The faithful Deborah attended to her like a slave, and would allow no one, save the doctor, to enter the sick-room. Bart Tawsey, who had been summoned to Gwynne Street from his bed, remained in the empty shop and attended to any domestic duties which Miss Junk required to be performed.
"Ah," said Miss Junk, luxuriously, "I've taught you to, in quite a genteel way. What a scrubby little brat you were, Bart!" "Yuss," said Mr. Tawsey, eating rapidly. "I saw myself to-day." "In a looking-glarse?" "Lor', Debby no. But there wos a brat all rags and dirty face and sauce as I was when you saw me fust. He come into the shop as bold as brass and arsked fur a book.
"I've got two eyes an' a nose," retorted Mrs. Tawsey, "so don't talk of deceivin's. Thirty and more she is, the hussey, let her Jezebel of a mar lie as she like, an' can say what you will, Mr. Beecot. But there's my pretty smilin' from the winder and the tub's a-waitin'; so you go in and smooth 'er to affections, while I see that Mrs.
"One has gone," said another policeman. "Bart Tawsey isn't he?" "Mr. Bartholemew Tawsey, if you please," said the servant, grandly. "I only hope he'll be here soon to protect me." "You're quite safe," said Prince, dryly, whereat there was a smile on the faces of his underlings, for Deborah in her disordered dress and with her swollen, flushed, excited face was not comely.
Tawsey, dressed in her bridal gown and bonnet so as to crush Matilda with the sight of her splendor, walked down the garden path attended by Mrs. Purr in a snuffy black shawl, and a kind of cobweb on her head which she called a "bunnet." As Deborah was tall and in white and Mrs. Purr small and in black, they looked a strange pair.
Hurd as 'as 'is orfice at Scotlan' Yard, and take 'im with you." "Oh! but I couldn't " "You go," advised Mrs. Tawsey. "There's five pounds offered for the brat's bein' found." "Five pun!" gasped Mrs. Purr, trembling. "Lor', and me 'avin' a chanct of gittin' it. I'll go I'll go. I knows the Yard, 'avin' 'ad summat to do with them dirty perlice in my time. Miss Sylvia " "Yes, go, Mrs.
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