As for that Mr. Ned Twist, all I can say is, that if I could only have caught him, I should have told him a bit of my mind; and, as it was, I was as near as near could be, going round to the colonel of the regiment, and telling him that he ought to be ashamed of himself, to allow his men to go on in that way. For really there was some little excuse to be made for that stupid, conceited, highty-flighty, bit of goods of a Miss Susan of mine, for I’m sure the girl was head over ears in love with the gawky fellow, while he was only playing the fool with her. Every moment she could spare, there she was with a pen in her hand, scribbling a letter off to him, or else with a needle, making some shirts for the rip; and I declare, if she hadn’t gone to the expense of having his portrait cut out in black paper, and had paid at least eighteen pence extra for the sake of having the fellow’s mustachios and whiskers put in with a little trumpery bronze. Whenever, too, the minx could lay her hand upon any of my excellent jams or preserves, she would be sure to go making them up into pies or tarts, or something for that ogre of hers in a red coat; and once I found stowed away in the dresser-drawer a raspberry-jam tart, (we had had a roley-poley pudding for dinner the day before,) with a lot of open-work over it, and a small heart made out of pastry, and the initials E. T. in the same elegant material.
A little while after this, I declare there was no possibility of getting that girl to do a single thing in the house, for it appears that bothering regiment was about to change its quarters. And there she was, sighing and crying away in secret, and going mooning about the place with her eyes as red as two brandy-balls. When I stepped round to Albany Street, to see Mrs. L—ckl—y, in the evening, she told me it was just the same with her Maria—as, indeed, she said, it was with the maids all down the street, on both sides of the way; and when I let fall, by accident, the name of Ned Twist, she knew it directly, and told me she verily believed the fellow supped in her kitchen twice a week at least. Her maid was going clean out of her mind, she said, for his sake—although she had told her, over and over again, that the fellow didn’t care two pins about her; for she, Mrs. L—ckl—y, knew for a positive fact that the good-looking glutton was all the while paying his addresses to the girls at both the pastrycooks in the street, as well as to the maid at the fruiterer’s over the way. Really, she said, there wasn’t a female servant in the whole street that hadn’t been spoiling her head of hair for the rogues, and she was sure that there would be as many locks given away on the day of the fellows’ departure as would stuff a decent-sized mattress; though how that general lover, Mr. Ned Twist, would ever be able to find enough hair for the whole of his sweethearts, was a mystery to her. For if he behaved to them all alike, and gave a lock to each, there was no doubt the amiable villain would be obliged to throw in his whiskers and mustachios, in order that the supply might in any way be equal to the demand; while the good-looking vagabond would be obliged to go about with nearly all his hair cut off, like a French poodle, or else cropped as short as a knapsack.
When the day came for Susan to go, the poor girl had only a matter of eight shillings to receive out of the whole of her quarter’s wages. And Edward asked her how on earth she meant to live until she got a new situation. Whereupon the wretched dupe burst into tears, and said she was sure she couldn’t say; she had spent chief part of her earnings in paying for tobacco and drink for Ned Twist; and had lent him seven half-crowns; but she wouldn’t mind about that so much, only she had sent two letters to him at Windsor, and he had never even answered them. And what was worse than all, she had heard, since he left, that she wasn’t the only girl who had been fool enough to believe what he said, and to squander all her wages upon him; for she knew for a fact that in Albany Street alone, he had borrowed several pounds, in small sums, from different maids-of-all-work like herself, under the pretence of putting up the banns.
“But, my poor girl,” said Edward, “what could ever have induced you to believe the vagabond?”
“I can’t tell, sir,” sobbed Susan; “only he used to come of an evening, and fill my head with a lot of stuff about honour and glory, and bleeding for his country; and saying that whenever the trumpet sounded, he would gladly die upon the battle-plain in defence of the maids of merry England; and then he used to say that the soldier loved only three things as dearly as his life—and they were, his country, his honour, and his sweetheart—and ask me, who was so quick as the gallant Son of Mars to protect a lovely and defenceless woman from the tyrant’s grasp. So I couldn’t help thinking that he was one of the noblest men I ever met, and after all his fine sayings, I never dreamt that he would go borrowing my wages, and running away without paying me, and leaving me perhaps to starve while I’m out of place; for what’s to become of me now, goodness only knows.”
This tale affected us both so much, that we quite pitied the poor girl, for I saw that it had been all along as I had expected; and upon my word, the man was so handsome, that there was every allowance to be made for our simple Susan. As I said before, and say again, Government ought not to allow these men to have so much idle time on their hands as they have, or else make it a rule, that if there must be soldiers, at any rate, that they should be ugly ones; for her Majesty’s ministers ought to know that the red coats and bright buttons alone are quite sufficient to turn the heads of all the young girls, without the irresistible aggravation of a handsome face, and a pair of black mustachios.
Edward, who I must allow, is blessed with a good heart of his own, (though he has sometimes a strange way of showing it,) gave Susan a sovereign, and I added to it a pair of my old black silk stockings, (which cost me, I remember, as much as five and sixpence when they were new,) and an old morning wrapper that I couldn’t wear any longer, and I told her that, if at any time before she got into a situation, she chose to come in and help my new maid, or nurse my little girl, she might always rely upon having her dinner and tea in the house,—though I know it’s foolish to be overkind to servants;—still as this was a case of real charity, I felt that I couldn’t well do less, as I’m sure all my readers will be ready to allow.
Though, after Susan had left me, I regret to say I found she was in no way deserving of my sympathy; for when my butcher’s bill came in, I discovered that she had been in the habit of getting things for that gormandizing Don Giovanni of hers in the life-guards, and having them put down to my account; for, as Mrs. L—ckl—y had given me to understand, that Mr. Ned Twist—drat him!—was particularly partial to bullock’s heart with veal stuffing, and that he would go through fire and water any day to get it, I at once saw by the bill who had been dining with Miss Susan every other day in the kitchen during my confinement; for there it was, sure enough. Leg of mutton, four-and-nine; bullock’s heart, one-and-three; fillet of veal, six-and-two; bullock’s heart, one-and-three; ribs of beef, five-and-seven; bullock’s heart, one-and-three; belly of pork, three-and-one; bullock’s heart, one-and-three. And so it went on, right down to the end of the chapter.
CHAPTER X.
OF THE DIRTY SLUT OF A GIRL THAT CAME IN TO MIND MY BABY, AND THE EXTRAORDINARY CHARACTER WE HAD TO CLEAN EDWARD’S BOOTS AND SHOES.