Story 5--Chapter VI.
Hard-Hearted.
Time glided on.
“You’ve come again, then?” said Keziah Bay.
“Yes, I’ve come again,” said Mr Peter Pash. “Trade’s very brisk, Keziah.”
“Is it?” said that lady, in the most indifferent of tones.
“Yes, things are looking up well,” said Mr Pash, “and my lodger has dropped dips and taken to composites. You know what that means, of course.”
“Not I,” said Keziah indifferently. “I don’t trouble my head about such things.”
“You’re always a-snubbing me, Keziah,” said the little man dolefully. “It’s no good for me to try and please you.”
“Not a bit,” said Keziah with a smile. “You ought to know better than to come wherrittin’ me when there’s so much trouble in the house.”
“But it ain’t our trouble,” said Peter Pash. “Why, if I was to make myself unhappy about other folks’ candles, where should I be? Now, I say, Keziah dear, when’s it to be?”
“Once for all, I tell you,” said Keziah, “that until I see poor Miss May happily settled, I won’t bother about that nonsense; so you may hold your tongue, for I can see what you mean.”
Peter Pash gave a great groan of despair, but the next minute he was patiently submitting to a severe cross-examination concerning the habits and customs of his lodger Frank Marr.
“He’s no good, Peter,” said Keziah at last, “and the sooner you get rid of him the better.”
“But he pays his rent very regular,” said Peter, “and that’s a consideration, you know. And he’s a good son, and pays no end of attention to his mother. And I say, Keziah, dear, I’ve seen Mr Brough, and I ain’t a bit jealous now.”
Keziah snorted.
“He’s been to my place twice to see Mr Marr, and they’re the best of friends, and he tells me it was only his fun, and Mr Marr don’t seem to mind a bit. And I say, Keziah dear, now that Miss May is really going to get married and settled, sha’n’t we make it right now?”
“Now I tell you what it is, young man,” said Keziah fiercely, “I hate the very name of marrying, and if you say another word to me about it I’ll never have you at all. When I want to be married I’ll ask you, and not before, so now be off.”
“But will you want to some day?” said Peter pitifully.
“Perhaps I shall, and perhaps I sha’n’t; I’m seeing enough of it to satisfy me, so I tell you.”
Peter groaned.
“Now don’t make that noise here,” cried Keziah snappishly. “If you can’t behave yourself, you’d better go.”
“I won’t do so any more, dear,” said Peter softly. “How’s poor dear Miss May?”
“O, don’t ask me—poor lamb!” cried Keziah.
“It is to be, isn’t it?” said Peter.
“To be! Yes. They’ve talked her into it, now that your fine Mr Marr has proved himself such a good-for-nothing. It’s to be, sure enough, and I wish them all joy of what they’ve done. They’re killing her between them, and then they’ll be happy. Get married! There, don’t drive me wild, Peter Pash, but be off out of my sight, for I hate the very sound of the word, and don’t you come here any more till I ask you.”
Peter Pash groaned; and then rising he departed in a very disconsolate state of mind, for he considered himself to be far more worthy of pity than May Richards.