The House on the Beach | Page 6

that won't stump us. But
these are what I call queer doings in Old England, when you can't take
a step in the dark, on the seashore without plunging bang into a glass.
And it looks like bad luck to my visit to old Mart Tinman."
"Can you," he addressed the company, "tell me of a clean, wholesome
lodging-house? I was thinking of flinging myself, body and baggage,
on your mayor, or whatever he is--my old schoolmate; but I don't so
much like this beginning. A couple of bed-rooms and sitting-room;
clean sheets, well aired; good food, well cooked; payment per week in
advance."
The pebble dropped into deep water speaks of its depth by the tardy
arrival of bubbles on the surface, and, in like manner, the very simple
question put by Mr. Van Diemen Smith pursued its course of
penetration in the assembled mind in the carpenter's shop for a
considerable period, with no sign to show that it had reached the
bottom.

"Surely, papa, we can go to an inn? There must be some hotel," said his
daughter.
"There's good accommodation at the Cliff Hotel hard by," said
Crickledon.
"But," said one of his friends, "if you don't want to go so far, sir, there's
Master Crickledon's own house next door, and his wife lets lodgings,
and there's not a better cook along this coast."
"Then why did n't the man mention it? Is he afraid of having me?"
asked Mr. Smith, a little thunderingly. "I may n't be known much yet in
England; but I'll tell you, you inquire the route to Mr. Van Diemen
Smith over there in Australia."
"Yes, papa," interrupted his daughter, "only you must consider that it
may not be convenient to take us in at this hour--so late."
"It's not that, miss, begging your pardon," said Crickledon. "I make a
point of never recommending my own house. That's where it is.
Otherwise you're welcome to try us."
"I was thinking of falling bounce on my old schoolmate, and putting
Old English hospitality to the proof," Mr. Smith meditated. "But it's
late. Yes, and that confounded glass! No, we'll bide with you, Mr.
Carpenter. I'll send my card across to Mart Tinman to-morrow, and set
him agog at his breakfast."
Mr. Van Diemen Smith waved his hand for Crickledon to lead the way.
Hereupon Ned Crummins looked up from the card he had been turning
over and over, more and more like one arriving at a condemnatory
judgment of a fish.
"I can't go and give my master a card instead of his glass," he
remarked.
"Yes, that reminds me; and I should like to know what you meant by

bringing that glass away from Mr. Tinman's house at night," said Mr.
Smith. "If I'm to pay for it, I've a right to know. What's the meaning of
moving it at night? Eh, let's hear. Night's not the time for moving big
glasses like that. I'm not so sure I haven't got a case."
"If you'll step round to my master along o' me, sir," said Crummins,
"perhaps he'll explain."
Crummins was requested to state who his master was, and he replied,
"Phippun and Company;" but Mr. Smith positively refused to go with
him.
"But here," said he, "is a crown for you, for you're a civil fellow. You'll
know where to find me in the morning; and mind, I shall expect
Phippun and Company to give me a very good account of their reason
for moving a big looking-glass on a night like this. There, be off."
The crown-piece in his hand effected a genial change in Crummins'
disposition to communicate. Crickledon spoke to him about the glass;
two or three of the others present jogged him. "What did Mr. Tinman
want by having the glass moved so late in the day, Ned? Your master
wasn't nervous about his property, was he?"
"Not he," said Crummins, and began to suck down his upper lip and
agitate his eyelids and stand uneasily, glimmering signs of the setting in
of the tide of narration.
He caught the eye of Mr. Smith, then looked abashed at Miss.
Crickledon saw his dilemma. "Say what's uppermost, Ned; never mind
how you says it. English is English. Mr. Tinman sent for you to take
the glass away, now, did n't he?"
"He did," said Crummins.
"And you went to him."
"Ay, that I did."

"And he fastened the chiwal glass upon your back"
"He did that."
"That's all plain sailing. Had he bought the glass?"
"No, he had n't bought it. He'd hired it."
As when upon an enforced visit to the dentist, people have had one
tooth out, the remaining offenders are more willingly submitted to the
operation, insomuch that a poetical licence might hazard the statement
that they