Miss Susan seemed to be dreadfully put out by my refusal, (and well the wicked puss might, from what came out afterwards) for one evening, Edward had just got home from chambers, when he met a man on the door step, and on asking him what he wanted, he said that he wished to speak with the lady who owned the parasol he had brought with him, and which Edward knew very well belonged to Mrs. Yapp. So, when I opened the door, my husband asked the man to step into the parlour, and finding Mrs. Yapp there, told him that that was the lady he wanted. Whereupon the man said he was the head waiter of the Chalk Farm Tavern, and had brought home the parasol that she had left with his missus, on account of her not having money enough to pay the whole of the bill she had incurred when she was there with a life-guardsman. Mrs. Yapp blushed a bright orange right up to her eyes, (for it was impossible for her bilious complexion to blush crimson,) and said that it certainly was her parasol, but how it ever came into the man’s possession she wouldn’t attempt to say; for as to her ever having been inside a tavern with a life-guardsman, it was an abominable, wicked falsehood, that it was, and the man was a scoundrel to dare to come there and try to extort money from her under any such shameful pretences.
I declare I could hardly smother my laughter with my pocket-handkerchief, for, as I whispered in Edward’s ear, it was Susan, I knew, that had been running up the bill there with that vagabond, Ned Twist, and that two or three days before I had seen her going out with that very parasol, I could see Edward was determined to have a bit of fun, for, with a wicked smile, he asked the man whether there might not be some mistake, for Mrs. Yapp was a highly respectable lady, and he could not bring himself to believe that she would, at her time of life, go keeping company with a life-guardsman. But the man said, “What mistake can there be?—didn’t the lady acknowledge that the parasol was hers?—and how should I have known where the owner of it lived, if she hadn’t at the time given her address. But of course she wont acknowledge it, because I’ve mentioned it before company; though I’ll be bound, that if I had seen her alone, she would have recollected all about it pretty quickly; still it’s useless her trying to get out of it; for there’s the bill, and if she’ll look at it, she’ll see what she had, and that there was five shillings paid, and a matter of two and threepence left owing, and that’s what I want; and if I don’t get it, I shall take the parasol back—that’s all.” And the man handed Mrs. Yapp the account, who threw it back upon the table.
“I don’t want to see your bill, sir,” she cried. “It’s all a shameful imposition, and you know it is; and what’s more, if you don’t give me up my parasol this minute, I shall appeal to Mr. Sk—n—st—n to make you. I never heard of such a thing, in all my life, coming here and taking away a respectable woman’s character, in the hopes of getting a trumpery two and threepence. Did you see me at your ‘Chalk Farm,’ as you call it, sir?”
“No,” replied the man; “but the waiter that served you did, and so did missus; and she said, you were with Ned Twist,—and he’s very well known to us, for he brings more business to our house than any other man in the regiment,—and if it hadn’t been for fear of losing his custom, we shouldn’t have trusted you.”
“Well, my good man,” said my husband, with a roguish grin, “as you’re so positive, I’d better pay you the money, rather than have any disturbance about such an unpleasant business.” And Edward having done so, the man left, when Mrs. Yapp flew out in a most dreadful way, and declared, that Edward ought to be ashamed of himself for encouraging the man in the way he did, and going on as if he really believed what the villain had said. But Edward just put it to her, as a woman of the world, to say whether he could have done otherwise, when the facts of the case were so very strong against her; in all of which I of course agreed. And I declare it was such capital fun to see how she went on, when Edward took up the bill, and began reading it aloud as follows:—
| s. | d. | |
| 4 Glasses of Rum and Water | 2 | 0 |
| 3 Screws and a Pipe | 0 | 3 |
| 2 Teas, with Shrimps | 2 | 6 |
| A small Glass of White Wine Negus, and Biscuits | 1 | 0 |
| 1 Bottle of Lemonade | 0 | 3 |
| Ditto Soda with Brandy | 0 | 9 |
| 3 Cheroots | 0 | 6 |
| 7 | 3 | |
| By Cash | 5 | 0 |
| By Parasol | 2 | 3 |
Then Edward kept remarking upon the different items, saying that it was very easy to see what was for Mr. Ned Twist, and what was for the lady—whoever it might be that accompanied him. And really and truly, if it was his dear mother-in-law, and she had been foolish enough to go falling in love with any of those good-looking dogs at the barracks, he didn’t see that there was any necessity for concealing her passion; for if the man were respectable, why, he should be very happy to see him, and question him as to whether his intentions were honourable towards her. It would have done any one’s heart as much good as it did mine to see how angry this made the poor bilious old lady, who, all the time that Edward was teasing her, was biting her lips, and shaking her leg up and down with downright passion, while she pretended to be very busy reading a book—(I never saw such reading)—until at last her nasty bile got the better of her, and would not allow her to stand a joke; for, declaring that she would leave the house the very next day, she bounced out of the room, slamming the door after her as hard as she could, till she made all the glasses on the sideboard jingle again, and up she went sulking to her room, where she stopped, and wouldn’t come down to dinner, nor allow us to send any up to her—as if she thought that would hurt us—a stupid old toad! All this, I said to myself, comes of having people in the house who must go getting angry over a mere joke.
I told Edward that, as she had declared she would go on the morrow, and Susan told me that she really was packing up her things in real earnest, he might as well go up and tell her that he had only meant what he said in fun, and get her to come down to tea; or else, perhaps, what with her passion, and starving herself, she might be laid up before she left our house with a bilious fever. But he wouldn’t think of doing anything half so rash, he said, adding, that it would be quite time enough to apologize as soon as she should be dressed ready to go on the morrow.
Next day, Edward wouldn’t go down to chambers, for fear, as he said, that I should go playing the fool, and making it up with Mrs. Yapp. Knowing that she was going by the one o’clock coach, I got a nice little luncheon ready for her (just a few sandwiches cut from the lean part of the silver side of a round of beef, between some digestive bread); and when she came down to wish us good-bye, Edward told her he was sorry that she had taken in earnest what he only intended in joke—and I confessed that I knew it was Susan who had taken her parasol all the while, saying I was sure that if anything similar had occurred to me, I shouldn’t allow so slight a thing as that to ruffle my temper; and that I trusted she wouldn’t think of leaving us so soon—though I really was afraid of pressing her too much, for fear she might think I meant what I said. So, after a little coaxing, we got her to sit down and take a mouthful with us, telling her that Susan should run out to get her a coach, and I would slip on my things and go down with her to the coach-office, and see her off with a great deal of pleasure.
While we were waiting for Susan to come with the coach, there was a ring at the door, and, when I opened it, it was a man who said that he had brought his bill for the tobacco, and which he said he should feel obliged if I would settle. So I showed him in to Edward, as the only person in the house that smoked. But no sooner did he get into the room than he handed the bill to me, and said he believed I should find that it was all correct, and when I looked at it I declare that it was nothing more than a string of near upon twenty half-ounces of “bird’s-eye returns.” So I asked Edward whether he knew anything about it; but the man said it was for me. Whereupon I asked him what he meant; and he had the impudence to persist in saying that I myself was the party who had purchased it for——