Mrs Caudles Curtain Lectures | Page 9

too, like a fool--now, don't you think to stop me, Mr. Caudle; a
poor woman may be trampled to death, and never say a word--you, too,
like a fool--I wonder who'd do it for you--to insist upon the girl going
out for pickled walnuts. And in such a night too! With snow upon the
ground. Yes; you're a man of fine feelings, you are, Mr. Caudle; but the
world doesn't know you as I know you--fine feelings, indeed! to send
the poor girl out, when I told you and told your friend, too--a pretty
brute he is, 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