“It was the Dominie, Mrs Bately, who looked there for something for me to eat, and he has been caught in a rat-trap.”
“Serve him right; I have forbade him that cupboard. Have I not, Mr Dobbs?”
“Yea, and verily,” quoth the Dominie, “and I do repent me that I took not thine advice, for look at my fingers;” and the Dominie extended his lacerated digits.
“Dear me! well I’d no idea that a rat-trap pinched so hard,” replied the old woman, whose wrath was appeased. “How it must hurt the poor things—I won’t set it again, but leave them all to the cat; he’ll kill them, if he only can get at them.” The old lady went to a drawer, unlocked it, brought out some fragments of rags, and a bottle of friar’s balsam, which she applied to the Dominie’s hand, and then bound it up, scolding him the whole time. “How stupid of you, Mr Dobbs; you know that I was only out for a few minutes. Why didn’t you wait—and why did you go to the cupboard? Hav’n’t I always told you not to look into it? and now you see the consequences.”
“Verily my hand burneth,” replied the Dominie.
“I will go for cold water, and it will ease you. What a deal of trouble you do give, Mr Dobbs; you’re worse than a charity boy;” and the old lady departed to the pump.
“Vinegar is a better thing, sir,” said I, “and there is a bottle in the cupboard, which I dare say is vinegar.” I went to the cupboard, and brought out the bottle, took out the cork and smelt it. “This is not vinegar, sir, it is Hollands or gin.”
“Then would I like a glass, Jacob, for I feel a sickening faintness upon me; yet be quick, peradventure the old woman may return.”
“Drink out of the bottle, sir,” said I, perceiving that the Dominie looked very pale, “and I will give you notice of her approach.” The Dominie put the bottle to his mouth, and was taking a sufficient draught, when the old woman returned by another door which was behind us; she had gone that way for a wash-basin. Before we could perceive her, she came behind the Dominie, snatched the bottle from his mouth with a jerk that threw a portion of the spirits in his eyes, and blinded him.
“That’s why you went to my cupboard, is it, Mr Dobbs?” cried she, in a passion. “That’s it, is it? I thought my bottle went very fast; seeing that I don’t take more than a tea-spoonful every night, for the wind which vexes me so much. I’ll set the rat-trap again, you may depend upon it; and now you may get somebody else to bind your fingers.”