"I don't go to the Dragon late at night."
"I'm not finding fault, T.; and you needn't answer me so sharp. It's only natural you should want something to sustain you after such slavery as you have to go through. I'm not unreasonable. I know very well what a man is, and what it is he can do, and what he can't. It would be all very well your going on if you had a partner you could trust."
"Nothing on earth shall induce me to carry on with that fellow."
"And therefore you ought to take him at his word and retire. It would be the gentlemanlike thing to do. Of course you'd have the power of going over and seeing that things was straight. And if we was living comfortable at some genteel place, such as Torquay or the like, of course you wouldn't want to be going out to Dragons every evening then. I shouldn't wonder if, in two or three years, you didn't find yourself as strong as ever again."
Tappitt, beneath the clothes, insisted that he was strong; and made some virile remark in answer to that further allusion to the Dragon. He by no means gave way to his wife, or uttered any word of assent; but the lady's scheme had been made known to him; the ice had been broken; and Mrs. Tappitt, when she put out the candle, felt that she had done a good evening's work.
CHAPTER VIII.
MRS. RAY'S PENITENCE.
Another fortnight went by, and still nothing further was heard at Bragg's End from Luke Rowan. Much was heard of him in Baslehurst. It was soon known by everybody that he had bought the cottages; and there was a widely-spread and well-credited rumour that he was going to commence the necessary buildings for a new brewhouse at once. Nor were these tidings received by Baslehurst with all that horror,—with that loud clamour of indignation,—which Tappitt conceived to be due to them. Baslehurst, I should say, as a whole, received the tidings with applause. Why should not Bungall's nephew carry on a brewery of his own? Especially why should he not, if he were resolved to brew good beer? Very censorious remarks about the Tappitt beer were to be heard in all bar-rooms, and were re-echoed with vehemence in the kitchens of the Baslehurst aristocracy.
"It ain't beer," said Dr. Harford's cook, who had come from the midland counties, and knew what good beer was. "It's a nasty muddle of stuff, not fit for any Christian who has to earn her victuals over a kitchen fire."