“Oh, yes, we know,” retorted Mrs. Fokesell, winking her eye and nodding her head, in a manner that is considered to speak volumes, and which was certainly meant to insinuate to the unsuspecting Sandboys that the lady was acquainted with the fact of his having tried to take “forty winks” in the gutter; “and we know where you had your nap too. Fine times, indeed, when you gents must needs go falling asleep in the ‘kennel.’”
“In t’ ‘kennel,’” shouted Sandboys, in none of the mildest tones. “What do’sta mean, woman, what do’sta mean, I say?”
“Oh, you knows what I means, well enough, Mr. Slyboots—going and doing such things, thinking it ’ud be unbeknown to your missus. A nice time she’d have on it if she only knowed all, I’ll be bound to say.” And here Mrs. Fokesell gave herself a jerk, expressive, as she imagined, of the highest possible indignation.
“How daresta speak to me in that way?” demanded the incensed Cursty. “Leave t’ room, woman.”
“Father! father! pray calm yourself,” said Elcy, growing alarmed at what she imagined to be the lingering effect of her parent’s indiscretion. “Pray be calm, and go and lie down just a little while.”
“Lie down! why, what’s come to you aw’? You seem to be aw’ mad tegidder. But where’s your mother?”
“Ah! you may well ask that,” answered the pert Mrs. Fokesell—“gone to look after you; and I suppose you can remember the kind of place you’ve come from?”
“I come from Houndsditch, I tell tha, woman,” replied Mr. Sandboys, curtly, for he was afraid to give full vent to his feeling, lest he might receive “notice to quit,” and then be left without a roof to shelter himself or family.
“You must tell that to the marines, as my Fokesell used to say,” retorted the landlady; “for I knows better—so it’s no use your denying the tricks you have been at no longer; and all I got to say is, the sooner you has your temples bathed with winegar, the better it will be for you in the morning. Come, now. I’m a married woman, and knows all about these matters. Bless you! my Fokesell has taken a drop too much many a time; so just let me go and get you a Seidelitz powder, or, if them’s too cold for you, be persuaded by me, and take a couple of ‘Cockles.’”
Poor Mr. Sandboys sat all this time almost “boiling over” with rage. He bit his lip between his teeth to prevent his saying a word, for he now began to see that not only the landlady, but his daughter, both imagined that he had been drinking. Why they should imagine as much was more than he could conceive, but it was evident that such was their impression.