Mrs Caudles Curtain Lectures | Page 6

for what respectable people will buy toys for their children of a drunkard? You're not a drunkard! No: but you will be--it's all the same.
"You've begun by staying out till midnight. By-and-by 'twill be all night. But don't you think, Mr. Caudle, you shall ever have a key. I know you. Yes; you'd do exactly like that Prettyman, and what did he do, only last Wednesday? Why, he let himself in about four in the morning, and brought home with him his pot-companion, Puffy. His dear wife woke at six, and saw Prettyman's dirty boots at her bedside. And where was the wretch, her husband? Why, he was drinking downstairs--swilling. Yes; worse than a midnight robber, he'd taken the keys out of his dear wife's pockets--ha! what that poor creature has to bear!--and had got at the brandy. A pretty thing for a wife to wake at six in the morning, and instead of her husband to see his dirty boots!
"But I'll not be made your victim, Mr. Caudle, not I. You shall never get at my keys, for they shall lie under my pillow--under my own head, Mr. Caudle.
"You'll be ruined, but if I can help it, you shall ruin nobody but yourself.
"Oh, that hor--hor--hor--i--ble tob--ac--co!"
To this lecture, Caudle affixes no comment. A certain proof, we think, that the man had nothing to say for himself.

LECTURE III--MR. CAUDLE JOINS A CLUB--"THE SKYLARKS."

"Well, if a woman hadn't better be in her grave than be married! That is, if she can't be married to a decent man. No; I don't care if you are tired, I SHAN'T let you go to sleep. No, and I won't say what I have to say in the morning; I'll say it now. It's all very well for you to come home at what time you like--it's now half-past twelve--and expect I'm to hold my tongue, and let you go to sleep. What next, I wonder? A woman had better be sold for a slave at once.
"And so you've gone and joined a club? The Skylarks, indeed! A pretty skylark you'll make of yourself! But I won't stay and be ruined by you. No: I'm determined on that. I'll go and take the dear children, and you may get who you like to keep your house. That is, as long as you have a house to keep--and that won't be long, I know.
"How any decent man can go and spend his nights in a tavern!--oh, yes, Mr. Caudle; I daresay you DO go for rational conversation. I should like to know how many of you would care for what you call rational conversation, if you had it without your filthy brandy-and- water; yes, and your more filthy tobacco-smoke. I'm sure the last time you came home, I had the headache for a week. But I know who it is who's taking you to destruction. It's that brute, Prettyman. He has broken his own poor wife's heart, and now he wants to--but don't you think it, Mr. Caudle; I'll not have my peace of mind destroyed by the best man that ever trod. Oh, yes! I know you don't care so long as you can appear well to all the world,--but the world little thinks how you behave to me. It shall know it, though--that I'm determined.
"How any man can leave his own happy fireside to go and sit, and smoke, and drink, and talk with people who wouldn't one of 'em lift a finger to save him from hanging--how any man can leave his wife--and a good wife, too, though I say it--for a parcel of pot-companions-- oh, it's disgraceful, Mr. Caudle; it's unfeeling. No man who had the least love for his wife could do it.
"And I suppose this is to be the case every Saturday? But I know what I'll do. I know--it's no use, Mr. Caudle, your calling me a good creature: I'm not such a fool as to be coaxed in that way. No; if you want to go to sleep, you should come home in Christian time, not at half-past twelve. There was a time, when you were as regular at your fireside as the kettle. That was when you were a decent man, and didn't go amongst Heaven knows who, drinking and smoking, and making what you think your jokes. I never heard any good come to a man who cared about jokes. No respectable tradesman does. But I know what I'll do: I'll scare away your Skylarks. The house serves liquor after twelve of a Saturday; and if I don't write to the magistrates, and have the licence taken away, I'm not lying in this bed this night. Yes, you may call me a foolish woman; but no, Mr. Caudle, no; it's you who are the foolish man;