“No—won’t as much as name ’em, such is ’is lawfty contemp’. Otherwise, what ’ud be my path of dooty? My path of dooty on behalf of self-justice to Mr. Butson would be to see ’em an’ put a pint o’ argument. ’Ere, I puts it, is ’im, an’ ’ere is me. ’Ere is Mr. ’Enery Butson, your very dootiful relation of fash’nable instinks, an’ a engineer than which none better though much above it, an’ unsuitably enchained by worldly circumstances in the engine-room of a penny steamer.” (Here Mr. Butson snorted again.) “Likewise ’ere is me, a elderly man of some small property, an’ a shipwright of practical experience. Them circumstances bein’ the case, cons’kently, what more nachral an’ proper than a partnership—with capital. That’s ’ow I’d put the pint; a partnership with capital.”
“Jus’ so,” said old May. And seeing that the other still paused, he added “Of course.”
“But ’e’s proud—proud!” said Uncle Isaac, shaking his head plaintively.
“P’raps I am proud,” Mr. Butson admitted candidly, “I s’pose I got my faults. But I wouldn’t take a penny from ’em—not if they was to beg me on their knees. Why I’d sooner be be’olding to strangers!”
“Ah, that ’e would,” sighed Uncle Isaac. “But it ain’t self-justice. No, it ain’t self-justice!”
“It’s self-respect, any’ow,” said Mr. Butson sullenly. “If they like to treat me unnatural, let ’em.”
“Ah,” observed Uncle Isaac, “some fam’lies is unnachral an’ some is nachral, an’ there’s a deal o’ difference between ’em. Look at Mr. May now. ’E ain’t altogether in my family, though my niece’s father-in-law by marriage. But what nachralness! His son was a engineer in yer own trade, Mr. Butson,—fitter at Maidment’s. ’E left my niece a widder, cons’kence of a coat-tail in a cog wheel. What does Mr. May do? Why ’e shows ’is nachralness. ’E brings ’er an’ ’er children down ’ere on ’is own free’old residence, an’ cons’kently—’ere they are. Look at that!”
It was a principle with Uncle Isaac to neglect no opportunity of reciting at large the excellences of any person of the smallest importance with whom he might be acquainted; or the excellences which that person might be supposed to desire credit for: if in his actual presence, so much the better. Nothing could be cheaper, and on the whole it paid very well. At worst, it advertised an amiable character; and there remained off-chances of personal benefit. Moreover the practice solidified Uncle Isaac’s reputation among his acquaintances. For here, quoth each in his turn, was plainly a man of sagacious discernment. The old postman, however, was merely uneasy. To his mind it was nothing but a matter of course that when his son died, the widow and children should come under his own roof, and it was as a matter of course that he had brought them there. But Bessy’s mother said simply:—“Yes, gran’dad’s been a good one to us, always.” She, as well as the children, called him “gran’dad.”
“Yes,” proceeded Uncle Isaac, “an’ ’im with as much to think about as a man of edication too—wonderful. Why there’s nothink as ’e don’t know in astronomy an’—an’—an’ insectonomy. Nothink!”
“No, not astronomy,” interjected old May, a little startled by both counts of the imputation. “Not astronomy, Mr. Mundy.”