“I mean what I say,” replied the old gentleman, demurely. “Take me with you. Introduce me to your wife and family, and let us all have a friendly cup of tea together in your back parlour. Don’t stare, my good Wag; but fill your glass. I don’t want to buy your little Wags, but I happen to have more of the ready, as you call it, than I want; so I’ll put them to school or what you like. What say you?”
Jeremiah rubbed his eyes, as though doubtful if he were awake, and then uttered his thanks for such extraordinary kindness in the best way he was able; and about an hour after, the whimsical little old rich gentleman was sitting by the side of Mrs Wag, with a little curly-headed Wag on each knee, while the rest were playing round, or gazing open-mouthed at the stranger with childish wonder.
By degrees all stiffness wore off; and, before the evening concluded, nothing could exceed the merriment of the whole party. The eccentric elderly gentleman had learned to call all the Wags by their names, and he played and frolicked, and rolled upon the floor with the little people, in a style that made the parents suspect, with the landlord, that he must be “cracked.”
However, at parting, he became more serious, and invited Jeremiah to come and breakfast with him in the morning, and to bring with him a copy of the names and birthdays of his children, as entered in the Family Bible.
Mr and Mrs Wag of course lay awake for an hour that night, talking over the strange incidents of the day, and perhaps building a few castles in the air, after the style of affectionate parents for their children.
On the following morning Jeremiah dressed himself in his Sunday suit, and repaired to fulfil his engagement. His new old friend received him in the most cordial manner, and they breakfasted together, chatting over family concerns as on the preceding day. When their repast was ended, the little gentleman read over the list of the young Wags, and smilingly observed, “A jolly set of them! We must contrive to make them all good and happy Wags if we can, eh? Eldest, Jerry, almost fourteen—useful to you in business. That’s right. Leave him there, eh? Next, Thomas, almost thirteen—fond of reading—told me so. A good school first, eh? Then three girls running, Mary, Anne, and Fanny. Pack them off to a good school too. Never mind. Then comes William, eight—and Stephen, seven. Think I know where to place them——Just the right age. Perhaps can’t do it at once, though. Humph. That’s all I can take at present. The other three, Sarah, Henry, and Philip, too young. Well, my worthy Wag, you will hear about what I mean to do with them before long, and a friend of mine will call upon you some day to consult about the best way of increasing your business. Settle all in time. No more to say now, but good-by—eh? Paid the landlord’s bill before breakfast, ’cause don’t like to be kept waiting. Didn’t mean to have stopped longer than to change horses when I came yesterday. Glad I have, though. Hope you won’t be sorry. Holla! waiter! is my carriage ready?”—“At the door, sir,” shouted the landlord in reply. “That’s right!” exclaimed the extraordinary elderly gentleman. “Good-by, my worthy Wag! Remember me to Mrs Wag, and give my love to all the little Wags. Ten besides yourselves! A dozen Wags in one family! Never expected to see such a sight as that! He, he, he! See it again, though, hope. Wag together, all of you, like a bundle of sticks, hope!” And, laughing and uttering similar incoherent sentences alternately, he walked briskly along the passage to his carriage, into which he forthwith jumped, and, having repeated his valediction to the astounded shopkeeper, ordered the postilion to drive on.
Thus Jeremiah was prevented from expressing his grateful feelings for such wonderful promises, and so stood gaping in silence till the carriage was out of sight.
“Why, you seem regularly ’mazed, neighbour!” exclaimed the landlord.
“Enough to make me,” replied Mr Wag. “If one-half what I’ve heard this morning should come true, I shall be a lucky fellow, that’s all!”
“The old fellow’s cracked,” observed Titus Twist. “He’s a gentleman, however, every inch of him, that I will say for him. Didn’t make a word about nothing. All right. Used to good living, no doubt. More’s the pity, as he’s cracked. He certainly ought not to be allowed to travel without a servant as he does.”