Mrs Caudles Curtain Lectures | Page 9

I'm sure--that the poor girl had got a cold and I dare say chilblains on her toes. But I know what will be the end of that; she'll be laid up, and we shall have a nice doctor's bill. And you'll pay it, I can tell you--for I won't.
"YOU WISH YOU WERE OUT OF THE WORLD?
"Oh! yes, that's all very easy. I'm sure I might wish it. Don't swear in that dreadful way! Aren't you afraid that the bed will open and swallow you? And don't swing about in that way. THAT will do no good. THAT won't bring back the leg of pork, and the brandy you've poured down both of your throats. Oh, I know it, I'm sure of it. I only recollected it when I'd got into bed--and if it hadn't been so cold, you'd have seen me downstairs again, I can tell you--I recollected it, and a pretty two hours I've passed--that I left the key in the cupboard,--and I know it--I could see by the manner of you when you came into the room--I know you've got at the other bottle. However, there's one comfort: you told me to send for the best brandy--the very best--for your other friend, who called last Wednesday. Ha! ha! It was British--the cheapest British--and nice and ill I hope the pair of you will be to-morrow.
"There's only the bare bone of the leg of pork! but you'll get nothing else for dinner, I can tell you. It's a dreadful thing that the poor children should go without,--but if they have such a father, they, poor things, must suffer for it.
"Nearly a whole leg of pork and a pint of brandy! A pint of brandy and a leg of pork. A leg of--leg--leg--pint--"
"And mumbling the syllables," says Mr. Caudle's MS., "she went to sleep."

LECTURE VI--MR. CAUDLE HAS LENT AN ACQUAINTANCE THE FAMILY UMBRELLA

"Bah! That's the third umbrella gone since Christmas.
"WHAT WERE YOU TO DO?
"Why, let him go home in the rain, to be sure. I'm very certain there was nothing about HIM that could spoil. Take cold, indeed! He doesn't look like one of the sort to take cold. Besides, he'd have better taken cold than take our only umbrella. Do you hear the rain, Mr. Caudle? I say, do you hear the rain? And as I'm alive, if it isn't St. Swithin's day! Do you hear it against the windows? Nonsense; you don't impose upon me. You can't be asleep with such a shower as that! Do you hear it, I say? Oh, you DO hear it! Well, that's a pretty flood, I think, to last for six weeks; and no stirring all the time out of the house. Pooh! don't think me a fool, Mr. Caudle. Don't insult me. HE return the umbrella! Anybody would think you were born yesterday. As if anybody ever DID return an umbrella! There--do you hear it! Worse and worse! Cats and dogs, and for six weeks, always six weeks. And no umbrella!
"I should like to know how the children are to go to school to- morrow? They sha'n't go through such weather, I'm determined. No: they shall stop at home and never learn anything--the blessed creatures!--sooner than go and get wet. And when they grow up, I wonder who they'll have to thank for knowing nothing--who, indeed, but their father? People who can't feel for their own children ought never to be fathers.
"But I know why you lent the umbrella. Oh, yes; I know very well. I was going out to tea at dear mother's to-morrow--you knew that; and you did it on purpose. Don't tell me; you hate me to go there, and take every mean advantage to hinder me. But don't you think it, Mr. Caudle. No, sir; if it comes down in buckets-full I'll go all the more. No: and I won't have a cab. Where do you think the money's to come from? You've got nice high notions at that club of yours. A cab, indeed! Cost me sixteenpence at least--sixteenpence! two-and- eightpence, for there's back again. Cabs, indeed! I should like to know who's to pay for 'em; I can't pay for 'em, and I'm sure you can't, if you go on as you do; throwing away your property, and beggaring your children--buying umbrellas!
"Do you hear the rain, Mr. Caudle? I say, do you hear it? But I don't care--I'll go to mother's to-morrow: I will; and what's more, I'll walk every step of the way,--and you know that will give me my death. Don't call me a foolish woman, it's you that's the foolish man. You know I can't wear clogs; and with no umbrella, the wet's sure to give me a cold--it always does. But what do you care for that? Nothing at all. I