"You quit, sir, and never dare insult me" (here the door was opened, and Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins looked wonderingly in) "in my own house again. Begone, false serpent, and lay your base snares for some other innocent heart! Villain, I scorn you! Clear out, or I send for a police to remove you from my premises."
"Wot's the row?" demanded the carpenter, looking at Jerry, as if he would like to challenge him to mortal combat.
"That base man has insulted me," screamed the boatswain's widow, who then pretended to faint, thinking the gentlemen would now settle the affair by an appeal to arms.
"Come, come, 'Melia, this won't do," put in Mary Ann; "you know Mr. Thompson don't care for you, and never did; and you've set your cap at him, and have been refused, and serve you right."
"Did you write this poetry to me, Mrs. Mary Ann?" demanded the acting warrant, producing Mrs. Shever's poetical effusion.
"No, Mr. Thompson, I didn't," emphatically replied the lady.
"Did you write this ere letter to me?" handing her the note which he had received that morning.
"No, Mr. Thompson, I'll swear I didn't. I don't write no letters to young men now I'm married."
Finding matters were going against her, and not wishing for any further explanation, Mrs. Shever got up from the sofa, dried her eyes, and walking to Mrs. Jenkins kissed her affectionately, and begged she would not say any more about it, as she had been very foolish, and now saw through her folly. Then, turning to Jerry, asked him, for the sake of old times, and him as was dead and gone, to forgive her, and forget she had been such a fool.
Thompson gladly made up matters, and explained to the still somewhat bewildered Jenkins that he felt the greatest admiration for both the ladies present,—one being still an out-and-out handsome woman, and as such to be admired by the opposite sex; while the other was, to his mind, the werry idle of a comely mother.