‘What is Jacko about, I wonder,’ said the ex-Preciosa; ‘do observe him, sitting in the corner as demure as an old woman during a sermon. I’ll warrant he’s been at more mischief. What do you suppose I have found him out in? I was knitting a stocking for Justice, and when the time came for me to go to the theatre I put the half-finished stocking with the ball of worsted down in the bed, I mistrusted Jacko. As I dare not leave him in this room with baby, I locked him into the sleeping apartment. Will you believe me? he found what I had concealed. He plunged into the bed and discovered the stocking and unravelled the whole; not only so, but he has left his hair on the sheets, and whatever Justice will say to me and to Jacko I do not know. Never mind, if he is cross I’ll survive it. Now Jacko, how often have I told you not to bite off the end of your tail? The poor fellow is out of health, and we must not be hard on him.’
The monkey blinked his eyes, and rubbed his nose. He knew that his delinquencies were being expatiated on.
‘You have not seen all my family yet,’ said Mrs. Barret. ‘There is a box of white mice under the bed in the next room. The darlings are so tame that they will nestle in my bosom. Do you believe me? I went once to the theatre, quite forgetting one was there, till I came to dress, I mean undress, and then it tumbled out; I missed my leads that evening, I was distracted lest the mouse should get away. I told the prompter to keep him till I could reclaim the rascal. Come in, dears! Come in!’ This was shouted, and a boy and girl burst in at the door.
‘My only darlings, these three,’ said Mrs. Barret, pointing to the children and the babe. ‘They’ve been having some supper. Did you see them on the stage? They were gipsies. Be quick and slip out of your clothes, pets, and tumble into bed. Never mind your prayers to-night. I have visitors, and cannot attend to you. Say them twice over to-morrow morning instead. What? Hungry still? Here, Jacko! surrender that crust, and Polly must give up her lump of sugar; bite evenly between you.’ Then turning to her guests, with her pleasant face all smiles, ‘I love animals! I have been denied a large family, I have only three, but then—I’ve not been married six years. One must love. What would the world be without love? We are made to love. Do you agree with me, Jacko, you mischievous little pig? Now—no biting, Polly! You snapping also?’
Then, to her visitors, ‘Take a chair—that is—take two.’
To her children, ‘What, is this manners? Your hat, Bill, and your frock, Philadelphia, and heaven knows what other rags of clothes on the only available chairs.’ She swept the children’s garments upon the floor, and kicked them under the table.
‘Now then,’ to the guests, ‘sit down and be comfortable. Justice will be here directly. Barret don’t much like all these animals, but Lord bless your souls! I can’t do without them. My canary died,’ she sniffled and wiped nose and eyes on the back of her hand. ‘He got poisoned by the monkey, I suspect, who fed him on scraps of green paper picked off the wall. One must love! But it comes expensive. They make us pay damages wherever we stay. They charge things to our darlings I swear they never did. The manager is as meek as Moses, and he bears like a miller’s ass. Here he comes—I know his sweet step. Don’t look at me. I’ll sit with my back to you, baby is fidgety.’ Then entered the manager, Mr. Justice Barret, a quiet man with a pasty face.
‘That’s him,’ exclaimed the wife, ‘I said so. I knew his step. I adore him. He is a genius. I love him—even his pimples. One must love. Now—don’t mind me.’ The good-natured creature carried off her baby into a corner, and seated herself with it on a stool: the monkey followed her, knowing that he was not appreciated by the manager, and seated himself beside her, also with his back to the company, and was engrossed in her proceedings with the baby.
Mr. Justice Barret had a bald head, he was twice his wife’s age, had a very smooth face shining with soap. His hands were delicate and clean. He wore polished boots, and white cravat, and a well-brushed black frock-coat. How he managed in a menagerie of children and animals to keep himself tidy was a wonder to the company.
‘O Barret dear!’ exclaimed his lady, looking over her shoulder, and the monkey turned its head at the same time. ‘I’ve had a jolly row with the landlady over that sheet to which I set fire.’