He left in a very uncomfortable state, and his sister watched him across the road, inwardly delighted at the idea that she had fired the train, and that her rival would come in for the full benefit of the explosion.
Jabez nursed his wrath that evening until he had had a good tea, and no temper on his good lady’s part could interfere with his enjoyment of that favourite meal.
But when the tea-things had been cleared away, and Mrs. Duck had settled herself down in her chair to make out the first-floor’s bill, which had been standing for a month, Jabez cleared his throat, and, picking up a newspaper, prepared to open a masked battery upon the good lady from behind it.
He was just about to inquire casually who the gentleman was who called so frequently during his absence, when there came a loud knock at the door.
The servant was upstairs, Mrs. Duck was busy with her book, so Jabez proceeded to the door himself. He opened it, and let in a tremendous whiff of spirits and a voice which, in a thick, husky whisper, demanded if Mrs. Duck was at home.
Jabez surveyed the visitor in astonishment. He was a middle-aged man, very shabbily dressed, and with bloated features, red, watery eyes, and a ragged, untidy beard.
‘And pray what do you want with Mrs. Duck?’ exclaimed Jabez, when he had recovered from his surprise.
‘Hulloh, guv’nor!’ exclaimed the man, with an attempt at a smile which gradually merged into a hiccough; ‘why’sh my old fren’ Shabez—dam’ fool’sh married my sis’er! Glash shee you.’
Jabez looked at the man silently for a moment. His words were a revelation. This, then, was the drunken visitor Georgina had seen so often. Mrs. Duck’s brother had certainly not prospered in business lately.
While Jabez was hesitating whether he should ask his brother-in law in or not, that gentleman relieved him of all further anxiety by walking or rather rolling in himself, and seizing Jabez affectionately in his arms.