"He's invented it," said Dinah. "It ain't true. He dreams it."
"It's very true indeed, and shows a weak spot where one didn't ought to be," confessed Ben. "If you'll believe it, Maynard, I often wake up of a night, somewhere about two o'clock, a changed man! Yes, I do; and then the whole face of nature looks different, and I find myself in a proper awful frame of mind against my fellow creatures. I mistrust 'em, and take dark views against 'em, setting out their wrongs and wickedness. At such times I'll even plan to sack a harmless chap, and lash myself up into a proper fury, and think the fearfullest things against man, woman and child. I'll go so far as to cuss the cat, because she haven't caught a mouse for a week! If the folk were to see me at such a moment, I dare say they wouldn't know me."
"What d'you say, ma'am?" asked Maynard.
"I say nothing, because I'm always asleep," answered Mrs. Bamsey.
"Do it pass off pretty quick, master?"
"It do. I slumber again after a bit, and come daylight, you may say butter wouldn't melt in my mouth. I don't write none of they rude letters I've invented, and I don't sack nobody—not even the cat. I wake up calm and patient with the neighbours and quite ready to forgive 'em, as I hope to be forgiven. After such a night I'm mild as old cider and only a bit tired."
"'Tis a sort of safety-valve I expect," suggested Lawrence.
"That's just what it is; and sometimes I've seen the like happen in daylight with other people. If you can send your neighbours to hell without them knowing it, it don't hurt them and comforts your nerves wonderful sometimes."
"A very shameful thought, Ben," declared his wife, "and you oughtn't to say such things."
"I know it's shameful. But I only tell the man these facts to open his eyes and show him how much better Johnny be than his father."