“Put down the key, then, or you’ll knock something else down; and you may open the shutters now; for I’m quite awake.”
“Dear me! I’m so sorry to think of disturbing you,” cried Mrs. Pomfret, at the same time throwing the shutters wide open; “but, to be sure, ma’am, I have something to tell you, which won’t let you sleep again in a hurry. I brought up this here key of the house door for reasons of my own, which I’m sure you’ll approve of; but I’m not come to that part of my story yet. I hope you were not disturbed by the noise in the house last night, ma’am.”
“I heard no noise.”
“I am surprised at that, though,” continued Mrs. Pomfret, and proceeded to give a most ample account of the fire, of her fears, and her suspicions. “To be sure, ma’am, what I say is, that, without the spirit of prophecy, one can nowadays account for what has passed. I’m quite clear in my own judgment, that Mr. Corkscrew must have been out last night after I went to bed; for, besides the japanned candlestick, which of itself I’m sure is strong enough to hang a man, there’s another circumstance, ma’am, that certifies it to me—though I have not mentioned it, ma’am, to no one yet,” lowering her voice—“Franklin, when I questioned him, told me, that he left the lantern in the outside porch in the court last night, and this morning it was on the kitchen table. Now, ma’am, that lantern could not come without hands; and I could not forget about that, you know; for Franklin says, he’s sure he left the lantern out.”
“And do you believe him?” inquired her mistress.
“To be sure, ma’am—how can I help believing him? I never found him out in the least symptom of a lie since ever he came into the house; so one can’t help believing in him, like him or not.”
“Without meaning to tell a falsehood, however,” said the lady, “he might make a mistake.”
“No, ma’am, he never makes mistakes; it is not his way to go gossiping and tattling; he never tells anything till he’s asked, and then it’s fit he should. About the sirloin of beef, and all, he was right in the end, I found, to do him justice; and I’m sure he’s right now about the lantern—he’s alway’s right.”
Mrs. Churchill could not help smiling.
“If you had seen him, ma’am, last night in the midst of the fire—I’m sure we may thank him that we were not burned alive in our beds—and I shall never forget his coming to call me. Poor fellow! he that I was always scolding and scolding, enough to make him hate me. But he’s too good to hate anybody; and I’ll be bound I’ll make it up to him now.”